


Born Into the Wilds

by ertrunkener_Wassergeist



Series: Born Into the Wilds [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue mage!Nyx, Culture Shock, Discrimination, Galahd (Final Fantasy XV), Galahdian Culture (Final Fantasy XV), Galahdian Religion, Gen, Languages and Linguistics, Politics, Religion, Swearing, War, Worldbuilding, headcanons galore, rated for swearing and violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ertrunkener_Wassergeist/pseuds/ertrunkener_Wassergeist
Summary: For generations there have been stories about the Ulrics. They have coeurls blood running through their veins, they say. It shows when they protect what belongs to them. Do not come between an Ulric and what they consider theirs. The consequences will not be pretty.Of course Nyx knew the stories. He just never gave much stock in them, not after he failed so miserably in protecting his family. Then a mission goes south and something in him wakes up. It's old and wild and animalistic and oh, there must be more to the old stories than he thought.It gains the attention of Insomnia's upper crust and suddenly everything is different. Suddenly the rest of Eos is confronted with powers they have written off for thousands of years. Powers that may just be the non-lethal solution to the ancient prophecy Regis is so desperately looking for.Eos beware: Galahd is not as dead as you may think it to be.Or: The main story to the series.





	1. First Strike

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the main story of Born Into the Wilds!
> 
> A few things before you begin reading:  
> This story is only very loosely based on canon. It steers off pretty much immediately and goes into the fun place of headcanons and worldbuilding. Be aware of that. Also I constructed my own religion for Galahd (the Astrals aren't their Gods) as well as the beginnings of a language. Words used will be listed at the start of every chapter. In this fic the Lucis Caelums and the Fleurets aren't the only ones with magic. Blue and green magic exist.  
> We good? Then enjoy!
> 
> Note:  
> Áris, Kyriákos and Orféfs are three of the five Fathers of the Hunt who are revered as the Gods of hunting.
> 
> List of words:  
> ahtriin (genitive plural of ahtri) = Spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> keiladisu (accusative plural of keilad) = prey  
> makarisu (accusative plural of makar) = hunter, warrior

Something wasn’t right.

Nyx crouched low in the tall grass, Luche next to him, and waited. There were next to no guards outside the base, just one watchtower at the back and one unit with one MA Veles at the entrance. Nyx fought the urge to growl from deep within his chest in agitation. There was something in the air he couldn’t place and it was driving him absolutely crazy.

Luche shot him a reproaching look as he twitched again. He didn’t even bother to look at the blond man; too intend to stare at the entrance of the base. It was near two hours before daybreak. The perfect time for an attack and something was wrong.

A near undiscernible click sounded in his ear followed by the hushed voice of Pelna: “Roh Unit in position. Luche, you sure this is a good idea?”

“Too late for second thoughts. Besides I didn’t make the plan,” hissed Luche into his earpiece.

“Kresch Unit ready. Let’s blow these bastards back where they belong,” sounded Sonitus’ voice, equally quiet.

Nyx felt his muscles flex, the stiff tension leaking out and then he went still. _Be the hunter in the jungle, the coeurl before the jump._ He felt Luche’s gaze on him again, this time a piercing stare full of caution, and again he ignored him. With a quiet hiss he unsheathed one of the two military grade kukris. Not for the first time did he wish for his hunting knifes because sometimes what he had to carry now felt like a blunted set of claws. He bared his teeth to chase those distracting thoughts away.

Now was not the time.

“On my mark,” he heard Luche say.

The world seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick in the air he could nearly taste it. Something about all this made his hackles rise. _Caution, caution, caution,_ it whispered in his ears. He couldn’t do anything about it. This, whatever it was, couldn’t be stopped now. The blade of his kukri didn’t shimmer in the light of the setting moon.

_Danger in the shadows, death from beneath the trees, fast as a flash of lightning. Áris, guide our steps, Kyriákos, guide my blade, Orféfs, let my kills be swift and quiet._

“Go.”

Nyx threw his blade and reached for the feeling within him that was like jagged pieces of glass and _foreign-doesn’t belong-intruder_ and pulled. For the fracture of a second he felt like freefalling through sulfur and ashes before he had the kukri in his hand again, his body near horizontal in the air in a hail of light blue magical particles. He used his momentum to slam the blade into the head of the nearest MT.

The thing started to crumble in a rattle of metal and Nyx twisted his body to tackle the one next to it, freeing his kukri from the helmet it had pierced. It took him less than two seconds.

A soundless snarl twisted his lips, unseen behind the silken cloth masking his face. He hated that thing. Not even the addition of the stylized horn of a Galahdian coeurl on his hood made it any better.

A low mechanic rumble made him look up. The MA Veles was turning in their direction. Nyx let himself wonder for half a second why that thing was suddenly so slow and clumsy when they never had been before. Not to that extend.

He threw the knife in his hand and warped a few metres above it, lightning flashing between his fingers and striking the heavy machine in a deadly crackle. Nyx landed on top of it, smooth like a cat, and prepared to strike it again. The metal death machine shuddered under his feet and swayed dangerously from side to side before it toppled over in with a low groan.

With a muttered curse he jumped off and tucked himself into a role to absorb his momentum upon hitting the ground. At once he twisted around again, crouched low and kukris in hand. The MA Veles laid there, still and unmoving. After a long tense moment he relaxed his stance and shared an incredulous glance with Luche who stood over the last MT to go down.

“That was too easy,” hissed Tredd from his left.

The man was right. Nine MT and an MA Veles? The fight hadn’t even lasted a minute by Nyx’ estimation. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, suddenly tense again. Something like apprehension flashed through Luches eyes.

The earpiece clicked and Pelnas voice sounded through: “Roh Unit reporting. We have taken the watchtower.”

“This is Firn Unit, we have the entrance under control,” answered Luche. “Further commands are as follow: Kresch Unit on the lookout for any enemy units outside the base, engage at your own judgement. Units Roh and Firn are to conquer the base and to search for the plans of the rumored magic-killer technology.”

That statement made something heavy settle within Nyx’ gut. A barely guarded base, new as it was, with no blooded commanding officer and plans for a new magic-killer prototype? That couldn’t be right.

“Luche,” he growled but the blond man just shot him a dark look.

“We _will_ continue with the plan as is Nyx,” he warned.

As an answer Nyx only rolled his shoulders and adjusted the grip on his kukris. Luche and the others stared at him for a moment longer, making sure he wouldn’t spontaneously disappear. Nyx suppressed a snort. He wasn’t that dumb.

He wasn’t.

“Kresch Unit on lookout. We’ll circle the surrounding area,” sounded Sonitus’ voice over the earpiece.

“Roh Unit ready for infiltration and takeover,” said Pelna. His voice had a strangely hesitant quality to it that made all of Nyx’ alarm bells ring. The communications specialist had a knack for recognizing sticky situations and traps. If he felt something was fishy…

“Permission for attack granted,” said Luche, tapped his earpiece and crept towards the gates, kukris drawn.

Nyx and Tredd shared a look before following. Stepping through the heavily fortified but conveniently open gate the red haired man was the one to check the control room right to the left. It was unmanned, as were the walkways and the second gate.

They encountered a handful of MTs between the storage depot stocked to the brim with shiny new weapons and the fenced in area leading to the third gate. It was pathetic and made the restless feeling in his stomach worse. He was waiting for… _something_ to happen. Anything, really.

The group made their way through the third gate in silence, having checked every nook and cranny for the rumored construction plans. There had been nothing, only a conveniently placed keycard to shut the lasers at the gate down.

“Lucky. Someone must’ve forgotten it,” said one of the newer members of the Glaive only to be hushed immediately. The young man, still nearly a teenager, ducked his head and Nyx could easily imagine that he was turning red under that flimsy face guard. He patted the other on the back, not letting any of his thoughts show in his posture.

Niffs didn’t just _forget_ things like keycards. The experience of long years of fighting, first in the resistance and then in the Lucian military, taught him that. Their regulations had regulations for _ahtriihn_ sake.

Now even Luche was getting visibly restless but still he pressed on. Tredd was hissing something inaudible under his breath but still followed, as did Nyx and the rest. He really didn’t want another disciplinary punishment hovering over his head for perceived insubordination. Their captain shouldn’t go sprouting Galahds greatest motto around and then not follow through. It was bad taste.

Barely a second after they all had stepped onto the great empty space behind the third gate did the lasers hum back on again. Right at the same time did Roh Unit arrive, practically melting out of the shadows safe for two who warped in a glowing hale of magical particles. Those idiots.

In the middle of the huge place stood a strange machine, looming above them like a menacing thorn. Nyx had barely time to register all of this before his instincts started blaring.

_Danger, danger, danger!_

The floodlights went on, nearly blinding him in their intensity, and he jumped away from the gate as far as possible and not a moment too soon before a hail of bullets slammed into the place he had been standing mere seconds before. The boy who had rejoiced about his _lucky_ find with the keycard went down screaming, the bullets sieving his legs and upper body. He was dead within moments. Tredd jumped away from him cursing loudly, back against the wall and shoulder to shoulder with the rest of Firn Unit.

Within the span of a few heartbeats the space between them and Roh Unit was swarming with MTs and MA Veles’ that didn’t move like they had a few too many screws loose. Above him a speaker activated and a voice he had only heard a handful of times before cackled in absolute schadenfreude. It was Caligo Ulldor.

“Ha! I have you Lucian scum now, like rats in a trap. Fitting, is it not? I never would have thought a few mere false rumors enough to rouse you from behind your precious wall. Now, do me a favour and die here today like good little rats, will you?”

Nyx bared his teeth in a vicious grin as the General’s amused chuckles sounded around him. Dying like rats? He thought not. Not with his prey parading around in plain sight.

“Luche, call the Captain, now! We need an extraction team and Kresch won’t be enough,” said Pelna over the coms, his voice grim.

“That will take more time than we might have.”

“I don’t fucking care. Do it. I hope to the ancestors that Drautos has a good explanation for this fuck up. Otherwise I’ll haunt him from beyond the gate,” Pelna spat.

To his credit Luche only tapped his earpiece and started talking to command. They were sitting at a checkpoint in Leide and were waiting on news of their success or failure. Well, right now it was neither.

Nyx lifted his own hand to his ear. “Tredd, you, Axis and me’ll take first wave; the others keep the things off Luche while he organizes our way out.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but threw his kukri and warped right into a group of approaching MT snipers. Two went down within the first few seconds and Nyx ducked out of the way of a bullet that hit a third one behind him. He jumped, kneeing another one in the gut, crashing it into an Axeman behind it and sent a thunder spell through both of them. They went down rattling and limbs twitching.

A huge metallic leg entered his line of sight. The MA Veles wasn’t aiming for him but Axis who was battling with two Magitek Assassins at once. The man didn’t notice the barrels aimed at him. Nyx cursed and warped. His upper body hit the muzzle of the thing’s gun, veering it off course just enough that the erupting hail of bullets didn’t hit his comrade but a few of the MTs flocking everywhere.

The impact knocked the air out of his lungs causing him to miss the kukri he had warped towards. His whole left side hurt. He groaned. The MA Veles moved and he slipped, falling, he instinctively tugged himself into a role to absorb the impact. A correctly executed warp only partway towards the linked weapon. Fuck, he hadn’t known that that was possible.

The landing on the concrete was harder than the one in the dirt outside but he still just jumped right back up and warped towards the fallen weapon. It would be suicide to lose one.

He appeared right beneath an MT and kicked its legs out from under it, sending it tumbling down, and plunged one of his kukris in its slightly lesser protected neck. Pressing his back into the concrete wall next to him he reached for his ear.

“Luche, please tell me you reached command.”

It took a few too long seconds for the other man to answer. “I did but it will take over an hour for them to reach us with an appropriate force. I repeat to all units: we’ll have to hold out for an hour.”

Nyx cursed and sent a volley of lightning into the MTs in front of him. None of them did stand back up. He tugged the irritating hood off and grinned. It was full of teeth and spite and a hunter’s arrogance. The strange feeling he’d had since his First Hunt buzzed within him. It had never led him astray, making his steps soft and quiet and his body graceful and lithe in its movements. It told him when and where to strike, to bare his teeth and _growl_ _and kill_ the ones who dared to hurt what was _his_.

And he did just that. With a wild glint in his eyes he prowled forward and attacked the Axeman coming at Tredd from the side. The redhead slew his opponent and stopped for the fracture of a second to stare. Nyx flashed him a grin, crouched down low and attacked another one.

He did not know how long they had been fighting already when they met with Pelnas unit more or less at the halfway point of this huge space, that strange machine looming above them like an unholy spire, backs against the wall and fighting a fight none of them thought they could win. Nyx could see it in their eyes. Four were already dead and the enemies just kept on coming accompanied by Ulldors periodic taunts over the speakers. When Nyx got to that piece of shit he would show him what an Ulric did to their enemy-prey.

“Something’s wrong,” said Pelna, half shouting at them half speaking through the coms. “The magic is draining way too fast!”

“I know!” Luche yelled back. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, the worst being on his right upper arm where a bullet had grazed him.

“… wher… rein…ment.”

The voices over the communication system grew static before going out entirely. Fuck. Nyx didn’t know if that had been Sonitus or their rescue team but if communications were out they were truly fucked. He hoped Libertus was okay.

One of the Glaives, Nyx didn’t know who but judging by the uniform it must be a newer member, broke formation with a desperate battle cry when Pelna warped out of the way of a flamethrower accompanied by a hail of bullets. The newbie was dead within seconds as an Assassin’s blade caught him across the throat and down to his ribcage.

That motherfucking idiot.

Hadn’t he learned? What were Drautos and the instructors teaching them?

No. This slaughtering had gone on long enough. He wouldn’t let these _keiladisu_ continue to think they were _makarisu_.

The pressure that had been building in his chest during every battle he’d ever participated in didn’t recede this time. Instead it broke and a barrier within him that he hadn’t known even existed, vanished. Nyx didn’t know why and, frankly, he didn’t care. Everything after that was pure instinct.

He spun the kukris in his hands and then flung himself forward. The world around him spun in a dance so fast the glowing red eyes were nothing more than blurs.

Lightning flashed.

The prey fell under his claws one by one. How dare they attack his pack! None of them would be left alive, none.

Nyx barely felt the blow in his side. He snarled and dug his claws into the face with the glowing red eyes. They would pay. They would pay.

_They would pay._

Sounds of metal shrieking and lightning cackling reverberated in his ears nearly drowning out the voices yelling around him. A metal giant stepped in front of him, clumsy on its two legs. Nyx hissed at it and jumped, digging his claws into its hide. His legs flailed for a few seconds before they found a foothold. Lightning traveled from his fore-paws to his claws and into the metal giant. It shrieked and fell, but Nyx couldn’t free his claws in time and landed hard on the ground.

For a moment he felt nothing but white hot pain. Someone was screaming. He blinked rapidly. His vision wouldn’t clear up and something was moving at its darkening edge.

Pack. Where was his pack? He had to protect his pack.

Forcing himself to move tore a hoarse scream from his throat and made dark spots dance in front of his eyes, but he managed to turn from his back onto his elbows. His arms shook as he heaved himself into a semi-sitting position.

“Nyx!”

He blinked at the form approaching him with careful steps, kukris sheathed and bare hands open and visible. It was Pelna.

“Fuck, Nyx. What was that? What were you thinking? Stop, don’t answer that. Fuck!”

Nyx wanted to laugh. He would like to know that, too. That strange… instinct in him hadn’t vanished but it had gone quiet. At last, he could hear his own thoughts again.

“Shit, you’re hurt. Axis, get your ass over here!”

A moment later a second face appeared before him. Axis didn’t seem too hurt, which was good, but the look on his face made him squint. He looked at him like he was a hurt predator in the jungle.

The wound in his side was bad. It looked like a blade had tried to cleave him in two and only hadn’t succeeded because it hadn’t quite been able to reach him. Nyx had no idea when he had gotten it.

“Pack. How’s th’ pack?” he managed to slur. Damn, his tongue felt like lead.

“Pack? What do- oh. Don’t worry. Nobody else was killed after you… well.”

“Well wha’?”

He hissed as Axis crushed one of their precious potions over his wound. Its feeling of _creeping fingers-not right-intruder_ made him shudder involuntarily. A bandage was pressed into his side.

“Lie down and keep still. I have no desire to see you bleed to death because of your own recklessness,” hissed Axis, still avoiding eye contact.

“Kept us ‘live, didn’t it?”

“Yes you oaf, it did. Now can you tell me what the fuck that was? That wasn’t the King’s magic. Whatever that was, it was all you,” said Pelna, eyeing him with an intensity he seldom allowed others to see.

Nyx needed a few seconds for the words to register. That hadn’t been the King’s magic? He frowned. That spark of _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ flashed. No, that wasn’t the King’s. This felt like-

“Galahd,” he muttered.

“What? Nyx, what are you talking about?”

Nyx didn’t answer. He was tired, but he wouldn’t sleep until his pack was safe and away from enemy territory.

Yells grew loud and he recognized Luche’s voice and – was that Libertus? Yes it was. His best friend looked a bit worse for wear but otherwise unhurt. Good. Behind them more and more people entered the space littered with fallen MTs and MA Veles’. Nyx flashed a vicious grin at General Leonis when their eyes met, not bothering to wonder what the man was doing here.

They were late.


	2. A Coeurl's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory boring talking chapter before we do something interesting again.   
> Featuring: Nyx' bad ideas, Pelna, Libertus and Crowe as the responsible ones and Cor as the inquisition.
> 
> This should have been quite a bit shorter. Uups -.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of info:  
> The wandering stories are stories first told and taking place during the years of wandering before the people settled down in Galahd.   
> Technically everybody over 80 is considered an elder in Galahd but the elder storytellers are the ones with any kind of true authority.  
> The First Hunt is a rite of passage, to be considered of full member of the comunity and earn your family name, one takes before the age of twelve.
> 
> Hadnissa words:  
> ahtrii (nominative plural of ahtri) = Spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> mahir (accusative singular of mahir) = Mother; woman who birthed me; affectionate form  
> straahnosa (dative singular of straahnos) = Foreigner; neutral term for 'someone not of my country'

“You know what the paperwork is for the use of a potion out in the field? It’s an _ahtrii_ damned headache,” grouched Pelna as he sat beside his sickbed, sunken into the chair like a petulant child.

“Why do you have to do the paperwork? If I remember correctly it was Axis who used the thing,” said Nyx, eyebrows raised.

Luckily the potion had healed him enough that he didn’t have to be sewed back together but still he would need to stay in the hospital until tomorrow. The doctor and nurses were walking on eggshells around him. It was aggravating. They couldn’t know what had happened on the mission already. He supposed it could have something to do with the fact that he had been admitted utterly covered in the oily black stuff the MTs leaked when cut into pieces. At least Pelna had gotten over his tiptoeing stage during the last few hours they had been back in Insomnia.

“He foisted it off on me because I was the one to make him do it,” the other man pouted.

“Then it’s your own fault for letting yourself talked into this,” grinned Nyx and reclined further into his pillow.

“Yeah well, you try telling him no when he gets going.”

For a moment they grinned at each other before Pelna grew serious. “Nyx? What in the name of the Hunters happened in that base?” he asked, his voice growing deeper and more quiet. “One moment we’re losing very badly and the next you’re between them teeth bared and lightning everywhere. You ripped off an _MTs head with your bare hands_.”

“Is that what it looked like?” blinked Nyx.

Huh. No wonder the other guys had been so careful around him.

Pelna gave him a flat stare and Nyx winced. “It was worse. Way worse. You-”

The door opened and the burly form of Libertus stepped into the room, followed by Luche and lastly Crowe, who was the only one in this group who hadn’t been part of the mission.

“There is our hero. You feeling any better?” crowed Libertus as he let himself fall into the second chair with a big grin on his face.

“The staff here is very charming,” grinned Nyx, glad to have escaped the dreaded topic for a bit longer. “How was the debrief?”

Libertus made a face.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s the Marshal who is doing it. Every person separately. It feels like you’re facing the inquisition like in the wandering stories.”

That gave Nyx a start. “Why the Marshal and not the Captain?”

“Because it was the Captain’s information that was faulty,” answered Luche, his face grim and eyes blazing. “They say it was his informant that tipped them off about the plans and the new base and now it’s on his head that the mission was such a disaster.”

“That’s utter bullshit,” spat Libertus.

“You think I don’t know that? They’re just looking for a reason to discredit us some more. As if they haven’t done that enough.”

Nyx dearly wanted to say something about that but he knew if he did it would just explode in his face and Luche would storm out in fury. A thick silence settled between them all that was only interrupted by Crowe’s vexed huff.

“Can we maybe not talk about that? I would rather know what happened during the mission that has everybody in a titsy. The guys come back from the debriefing and the first thing some of them do is go to the elders and now everybody is talking about the Ulric Clan again and digging up the old stories. On the way here I even heard an interesting rendition about your First Hunt. Something about your ancestors turning you into a coeurl.”

Nyx groaned as all eyes focused back on him. He knew the stories people were telling about the Ulrics, of course he did. As a child he had begged his _mahir_ nearly every night for those stories. Back then he’d still been Nameless, but then he’d gained his Clan Name at just nine years old and suddenly those bedtime stories had become _his_ stories, and they had gained an uncomfortable weight he hadn’t known what to do with. He still didn’t. But now he wished he’d actually paid closer attention when the stories had been told around the great fires.

But he hadn’t.

Nyx would actually have to talk with the storytellers, he realized. Or he could ask Libertus to guide him towards a snake and hope one of his ancestors would show him what to do, if what they said about the Ostium Clan was as true as the stories about the Ulrics seemed to be.

Yeah, no.

Libs would keel over laughing if he were to ask. He still preferred that over the old gossips, though. So Libertus it was, as soon as the people stopped not-staring at him.

His gaze wandered to Luche who was frowning at him but not _looking at_ him. That might actually take a while.

“I don’t know what happened,” he managed to say at last. “I really don’t. One moment we’re about to lose that damned fight and the next all I could think about was protecting all of you.”

Crowe frowned, clearly no understanding. Libertus didn’t fare any better and he had actually seen the aftermath. Nyx just didn’t know how to put to words the _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ that still pulsed in his chest like a heartbeat. Thankfully it – whatever it actually was – was quiet now and didn’t make him want to curl around _his_ people and hiss at everybody else who stepped too close to them.

“We couldn’t get too close to you, what with all that lightning you were throwing around,” said Luche in an echo of Pelna’s earlier words. “Everybody knows that you have an affinity for thunder spells, but this…”

“We know what the King’s magic feels like and whatever you did definitely didn’t come from that. Something was blocking the more powerful magic at our disposal and made the rest very draining but you still did what you did and it didn’t have that artificial feeling royal magic has,” said Pelna.

“Wait, the royal magic feels artificial to you?” asked Nyx perplexed.

Crowe frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “That’s what you got from that? This sounds like you used a magic of your own. Do you know how many people besides the royal family have been born with magic like that? Exactly one and she’s called the Oracle.”

“I’m just that special,” grinned Nyx, but on the inside his stomach dropped down to his knees. That couldn’t truly be everybody, could it? Galahd had its own kind of magic that was pretty widespread, but it was subtler than the warping and the elemency spells Lucian magic was known for.

“I’m scared to ask, but: What does the King’s magic feel like to you?” asked Pelna, his expression curious.

“Like jagged pieces of glass, like it doesn’t belong, an intruder.”

“I’ve never heard that description before. Mine feels like a too hot firestorm but still with that artificial undertone in it,” said Crowe, her frown deepening.

“That’s very nice and all, but what does it have to do with what the hell happened in that base? What’s the point?” Libertus wanted to know.

“The point is,” said Crowe and cast Libertus a dirty look, “that what Nyx did apparently lacked the artificial undercurrent we all feel when using the magic the King gave us, which means – I think – that what he did is an innate talent and nothing else.”

“It’s still there, you know,” said Nyx, and at once all attention was on him again. “It feels a bit like the deep jungle around our village, like you know a predator is watching you. Nearly like its living. It’s really strange.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Shut up Libertus! No one asked you,” hissed Crowe.

“Hey! You were thinking it, too, don’t deny it.”

The only woman in the room scoffed but didn’t, actually, deny it. Nyx couldn’t really blame her. It didn’t just sound ominous; it felt like it, too.

“Could you use it again?” asked Luche from his place against the wall.

Nyx hesitated for a moment, thinking. Maybe? He may have said that it – whatever it was – felt like a predator watching him, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that it felt like meeting that coeurl on his First Hunt again. Like it could devour him at any moment but it wouldn’t because it was protecting him, helping him.

He tried to reach for it like he would for the King’s magic and the spark answered immediately, its energy spreading through his body. It tingled and he could feel his instincts sharpen; his field of vision grew at once wider and narrower, the colours changing and throwing him slightly off balance. The smell of disinfectant underlined by sickness burned in his nose, nearly drowning out the smell of his pack mates around him. Energy traveled like lightning under his skin and Nyx felt his chest rumble in a content purr.

“Eh, Nyx?”

“Hmm?”

It took him a few seconds to find his human voice again and remember how to use it. He felt the sudden urge to round all of his pack mates up and lick their wounds. The golden one, the burly one and the darker one all smelled of blood.

“What the hell are you doing right now? Your eyes…”

Nyx blinked. What was with his eyes? His concentration broke and for a moment he keenly felt the loss of his sharpened senses. He looked at the other three in his room. _Pack mates, must protect_ , echoed the spark within him. They looked like they didn’t know if they should bolt or stay. What had just happened?

“What did you just do?” asked Crowe more curious than anything else, while Libertus stared at him in the same way he had done when Nyx had told him what had happened during his First Hunt, Pelna breathed a quiet “What the hell?” and Luche went back to frowning.

“I wanted to see if I could use whatever it is again?” It came out more like a question than anything else.

“In a hospital,” she deadpanned utterly unimpressed.

“Maybe not my best idea,” he muttered half under his breath. “So, what about my eyes?”

 “Quick, tell everybody else, Nyx is starting to learn some common sense. The water serpents must’ve grown legs,” mocked Crowe.

“Your eyes looked like a fucking coeurl’s, that’s what,” said Libertus at the same time.

Nyx’ mouth fell open in surprise. He really, really needed to talk about this with someone who had experience with this. Sadly none of the candidates was still alive.

“Oh.”

“Fuck, this is a mess,” muttered Pelna, dragging his hands through his hair.

“Does none of you realize the potential advantage we get with this on the battlefield? Nyx practically slaughtered one third of the enemy by himself back there,” said Luche a strange expression flickering over his face. It had the feeling of desperate hope.

“You realize that Nyx is, like, one person, don’t you? He cannot be everywhere at once and magic, wherever it’s coming from, is not endless within a human body. It doesn’t matter if it’s Lucian magic or his own. You, as a unit leader, should actually know that, Luche,” hissed Crowe and glared at the blond man.

“Wowowow, stop. I’m all for kicking the Niffs ass with this but I have no idea what I can actually do, what it is or what it does and I’m not dumb enough to use an unknown variable on a hunt,” said Nyx feeling strangely agitated.

Crowe made a _there you have it_ gesture, looking smug.

“You’re going to experiment with it, aren’t you?” asked Pelna resigned.

Nyx nodded. Of course he would, but before he could answer the door opened again and this time it was Marshal Leonis himself who entered the room. At once all conversation ceased as they all stared at the man. No one wanted to be caught talking in front of a _straahnosa_. The man might acknowledge their cultural differences most of the time and back off – and was better for it than ninety percent of the people living in Lucis – but there was no need to upset Lucian sensibilities when it came to Galahdian… ah, _heathendom_ , like the nobles and the press so delicately put it.

“Glaives,” he said in greeting, his face as stern and stormy as ever. “I would like to talk with Sir Ulric, alone if possible.”

Libertus patted him on the shoulder hard enough that the pain in his side flared up again while the others nodded at him before they all trooped out, not giving the Marshal more respect than necessary. Only after the door clicked shut behind them did the older man move.

“It is good to see that you were not too badly wounded, Sir Ulric. May I sit?” said he and motioned towards the seat Pelna had vacated.

“Of course Marshal,” nodded Nyx and tried to sit up straight. It did not really work.

“Don’t bother. I’m only here to ask a few questions about what the other Glaives of Units Kresch and Roh said during their debriefing. As well as what I and the rescue team saw in that yard. The doctor assured me you are capable of doing that.”

“Sir, if I may ask: What will happen to the Captain?” Nyx figured he might as well ask before his own interrogation began. Captain Drautos was a capable man, even if he liked to ignore social practices most of the time.

The Marshal hummed and tapped his clipboard against his knee. “Captain Drautos has nothing to fear. He is merely helping us trace the information as far back as we can manage to ascertain from whom exactly this trap came from. Ulldor may be a decent General most of the time but his ability to lay traps is rather abysmal. Now, walk me step by step through everything you did on this mission, Sir Ulric.”

Nyx suppressed a sigh, rearranged the blanket around his legs and started talking. This may actually take some time. He hoped he would get something to eat after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody interested in Nyx' First Hunt:  
> It's already part of this series. The story is called Ulric. :-)


	3. Around the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Nyx' friends are pltting little shits (he loves them anyway), a story is told and a secret is revealed that isn't really a secret anymore.  
> Featuring: Crowe's hidden dream, Luche sulking in the backround, respectTM for the story tellers and some very strong alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadnissa words:
> 
> bamohna (dative singular of bamohn): hot spice native to Galahd, tastes a bit like curry  
> kreitschi: very thin skewered meat mostly done with bamohn and chili, Galahd native dish  
> galahkari (nomiative plural of galahkar): person of Galahdian origin/Galahdian  
> sinehär: the Elder  
> gisdrauht: story teller/keeper of history  
> thuirs (genitive singular of thuir): Father  
> fumir: Galahdian national drink, fermented garula milk with spices (exact recipes vary from region to region)

Nyx’ side pulled in a mildly painful way with each too sudden movement of his torso, as Libertus and Crowe herded him along, cheerfully chatting all the way. They walked through the streets of Little Galahd, air filled with lively chattering in a mix of accented Lucian and Hadnissa, and heavy with the smell of exhaust fumes, grilled meat and spicy _bamohna_.

It gave him that feeling of not-quite-home he had become familiar with.

“Seriously, guys, what’s this about? I’m out of that white prison for like half a second and then I get abducted by you two,” he complained, totally exasperated with his best female friend and his hunting brother.

“We’re going to see an expert,” asserted Crowe in a stern voice for the third time before she went back to bickering with Libertus about the ancestors knew what.

Well, that wasn’t at all unhelpful.

He huffed in exasperation and glared at the tattoo-shop on the side of the street between a butcher’s shop and one concentrating on traditional leatherworks that had opened not too long ago. The owner was one of those assholes who thought he could profit off of a foreign culture only to be surprised that no one would give him the time of day. They only stopped to get a _kreitschi_ each for dinner from one of the street vendors with tattoos not unlike Nyx’ on his fingers.

Nyx relished in the sharp bite of the _bamohn_ and sweet chili after two days of tasteless hospital mush. How the Lucians could eat their food tasting like nothing he would never know. Maybe that’s why they were always such dickheads.

He got herded up a flight of rickety metal stairs and when he saw the house they were heading towards, he abruptly stopped walking. Or he would have, if Libertus hadn’t walked into him. He coughed on the piece of meat he’d choked on. Tears sprang into his eyes as the hot spices went down the wrong pipe. All the spirits, was that painful.

“Man, Nyx your face!” laughed Libertus. “You alright?”

Nyx shot him a dark look after he got his breathing back under control. His throat still burned something fierce but that he could do nothing about right now.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said.

Crowe heaved an exasperated sigh, hands on her hips, like his sister used to do when she was losing her patience with him. The thought made his heart twinge painfully and he unconsciously tugged at the mourning braid, he carefully maintained, even after all these years.

“Seriously, Nyx. Weren’t you listening? I told you a million times by now we would go see an expert for this!” she said.

“I didn’t think you meant that kind of expert!”

She shot him an _are-you-dumb_ look, he didn’t bother dignify with an answer. It was kind of true he supposed. He should’ve known what they meant when they had picked him up at the hospital with shit-eating grins on their faces and a manic glint in Crowe’s eyes. She’d always had a talent and interest for magic.

“Up, up, you hero. We don’t want to be late,” grinned Libertus and proceeded to push him up the rest of the stairs until they reached the old concrete building with the surprisingly large inner courtyard where the stories were told once every five days and during every celebration.

Here the elders lived with the best things they could be afforded. Since governmental support amounted to basically nothing the _Galahkari_ had started to pool resources, not only for the elders but also for the orphans and those who couldn’t earn money themselves. It worked, if only barely.

Pelna was waiting for them at the entrance of the courtyard with Luce standing next to him, his face a grimace of _I-don’t-want-to-be-here_. Tredd, Axis, Sonitus and a few other Glaives, most of them had been on his last assignment, loitered not too far away. Already Nyx could hear the telltale sounds of even more people behind the entrance. He would like to go home now, please. He had no desire for people to ogle him like he was some kind of attraction.

Before he could think of an effective escape plan however, Pelna saw them, grinned and waved like the cheeky bastard he was. “Damn. Didn’t think you would actually manage it,” he said.

“Did you doubt my power of persuasion?” asked Crowe with a playfully pointed look.

“Of course not,” laughed Pelna.

Nyx just rolled his eyes and wondered how these were his best friends. “Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled and trudged past Luche who looked at him with a carefully blank face, into the courtyard.

“Oh come on, hero. You don’t need to act like you’re going towards your execution,” called Libertus and hurried after him, followed by the others.

The courtyard was already full of people standing in clusters, talking animatedly and clothed in colourful garments one didn’t normally see in drab and proper Insomnia. At the centre stood a barrel in which a fire burned merrily. The air smelled of smoke and old history.

He breathed in deep, soaked the atmosphere up like a drowning person needed air. Maybe, just maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. Why hadn’t he come more often to gatherings like these? A spike of homesickness made him want to grimace. Ah, that’s why.

The voices floating around him hushed as Istoria Patientia stepped up to the fire. She was an old woman, closer to ninety than eighty, shrunken and marked by the war like so many of them were, but her eyes were sharp and clear. Her long white hair was twisted into a myriad of braids, the most prominent designating her as a _sinehär gisdrauht_. One of the five that still lived.

There were no seats or any other accommodation as the people stepped closer to the fire, Nyx included. When a _gisdrauht_ wanted to tell a story you _listened_. They never did so without reason, there was always something to learn.

Istoria’s gaze swept over the crowd and hung a few seconds too long on Nyx for his liking. He felt the fine hairs on his neck stand on end and that _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ spark again in anticipation. Whatever happened this evening would be important, he could feel it. She dipped her head into a slight nod and watched the crowds a few seconds longer before she took a deep breath and started to recite in that hypnotic rhythm all stories were told in.

Her voice was scratchy with age but loud and clear and carried well through the confines of the courtyard where no Lucian eye could see them.

 

 

_Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well, for this is a story told to me by my father and mother who were told by their father and mother back until the first people stepped into the arms of Galahd and the world was younger._

_The day the last of the white coeurls, great guardians of Galahd, left his pack was one of joy and great sorrow. He roamed through the deep shadows driven by something he could not name. Dreams had plagued him, dreams of blood and pain and a knife forged by green mists, keeping him awake and restless._

_Dreams are dreams his pack told him but he thought differently and so he went out more and more often for longer and longer amounts of time, always searching for anything that could help. After a new bout of restless nights he searched again, high and low for many circles of the sun and moon and yet didn’t find anything. Only trees and more shadows where secrets lay he couldn’t even begin to decipher._

_But finally, many days after leaving, he came upon a hill where an old hollow tree stood, guarded by crows and Naga’s kin. He knew who lived here. The ever-young, she, who danced with the storms. The witch the humans called wise._

_The last white coeurl came near and the crows laughed. He swiped his sharp claws at them but they only ruffled their feathers and laughed louder. It followed him over the threshold of the hollow tree._

_“You’re finally here. Come in, the knife is finished,” said the Wise Witch._

_She stepped up to him, her long black hair braided in the ways of the oldest traditions. In her hand she carried a knife he knew well, for it was the blade he saw in his dreams full of blood and pain. He hissed at her in warning, but she did not hesitate as she laid the knife down in front of him._

_It was a short one edged blade with a hook at the backside and a sturdy grip made out of pale wood. Dark green runes adorned it, pulsing in time to the white coeurl’s heartbeat._

_“Soon, there will come a day where you will need this. Take it. The payment will be the pains you will feel for the rest of your life should you decide to use it,” the Wise Witch said and went back to her glasses full of herbs and magic as if the last white coeurl was nothing but air to her and maybe he was, for she was as old as the lands themselves._

_He stood there, bristling, but he knew what happened to those who didn’t heed the Wise Witches words. So he took the knife and turned to the way back home, the crows’ laughter echoing in his ears. It took him many days until he stepped back onto the cliff that was his pack’s home._

_The smell of blood and death greeted him and his trot became a run. What he found was a woman with braids in her hair and who spoke the tongue of beasts burying the last of his pack._

_Thus the last of the white coeurls, great guardians of Galahd, met Adrastea, she who speaks the tongue of beasts. His blood yet lives to continue the task he inherited from his pack and has been passed down until this day._

 

 

Nyx stood there rooted to his spot next to Libertus, staring at the fire. He watched it flicker and dance as Istoria told a story he had first heard at his _thuir_ s knee when he was too little to remember it. The words were the same but something was different.

A coeurl ran through the flames as the last words were spoken and silence settled upon the gathering. People blinked as if woken from a spell and a low murmuring started as children asked questions and parents answered.

The prickling sensation on the base of his neck made it clear that there were people watching him. He suppressed a shudder. “Well, that wasn’t helpful at all,” he muttered.

Crowe dug her elbow into his uninjured side. “Shut it. You know the _sinehär gisdrauhti_ never tell-”

“Never tell a story without reason. Yes, I know.”

She shot him a dark look, causing him to sigh and duck his head.

“You know, you would’ve been a great _gisdrauht_ if your _thuir_ s family had allowed you to take their name,” he said as way of an apology.

Her sharp gaze softened to something young and vulnerable, a slight smile curling at her lips. It lasted for only the fraction of a second before the sarcastic woman was back again.

“The very best,” chimed Libertus and got a thump on the upper arm for his trouble. He made a face and cursed.

“Nyx of Clan Ulric,” said Istoria causing all five to stop and look at her. She stood hunched over on her cane a smile on her wizened face. “Come to the fire. There we may talk.”

He nodded and with a muttered “Of course, _sinehär_ ” followed the old woman, after a few quick goodbyes, back to the barrel. His friends weren’t following, not having been invited and everybody still remaining kept a respectful distance.

For a while Istoria just looked at him, her brown eyes took on an eerie orange sheen in the fire light. Then she tapped an earthen pot that was half buried in hot coals at the base of the barrel and pulled out two earthen cups from her many layers of colourful patched skirts and said: “Be a dear, Nyx of Clan Ulric, and pour us a cup each. All that story telling makes me thirsty in my old age.”

Obediently Nyx bent down and picked up the pot that looked like a mix between a carafe and a Lucian teapot with a wavy pattern that reminded him of the sea, by the handle formed to look like a sea serpent. It was nicely lacquered in turquoise and shades deep sea blue. He filled the identical cups that matched the pot and set it back down.

The smell alone told him at once what it was. _Fumir_. Istoria gave him a cup and he took a careful sip after she did and nearly choked. Very strong and very spicy _fumir_. It burnt all the way down and settled like a warm ball of sunshine in his stomach. Thank the ancestors he had eaten something before coming here.

Istoria shot him a mischievous grin like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and then she grew serious again. “Did you know that until the days of Adrastea no Ulric has ever had blue eyes? Grey certainly, sometimes green and even Solheimr golden, but never blue.”

Nyx felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline. He had an inkling of where this was going and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he kept his mouth shut. Not only was she the oldest member of their community still alive and a _gisdrauht_ , but also because he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to whop him with her cane if he did and he really didn’t need that with so many people still around as potential witnesses.

“Blue came after and with it a spark, so to speak. What I’m about to tell you, Nyx of Clan Ulric, has been a secret of your Clan for as long as its members have had blue eyes. Your father entrusted me with it before his untimely death to tell you, should the time ever come, since he knew he wouldn’t live long enough for him to do it himself.”

That caused Nyx to stand up straight, eyes wide and mouth open. That was… of course it had to have been a Clan secret he had no clue about. His father had died of Creeping Vine’s disease when he had been five and Selena two and his father’s older brother had died just a year before and none of his children had taken his Clan Name. Two of his cousins were still alive and in Insomnia, even, but refused to talk to him since he had joined the Kingsglaive, despite the debt they owed the King.

“I thought I would have to ask Libertus for help,” he burst out before his brain could catch up and promptly drank another gulp of the warm and too strong _fumir_ to keep him from humiliating himself any further. _Ahtrii_ , he wished he was anywhere but here.

“A viable option, but unnecessary,” the old woman chuckled. “Even if it would have been interesting to see young Libertus of Clan Ostium try to find and convince a snake. They can be very unhelpful if they want to be. Especially here on the mainland.”

Nyx grinned at the mental image. That would have made a suitably embarrassing tale for Libertus’ wedding should he ever decide to marry someone.

“Now, according to Ilias, the Clan of Ulric belongs to those with a close connection to an animal, but that was already obvious. When he came to me a large part of his veins had already turned green and his hands shook so bad he couldn’t hold a cup anymore without spilling half of it. He looked me into the eyes and said: ‘Contrary to popular believe the Ulrics don’t change into coeurls, we never have. What we do have is the ability to copy what makes a coeurl a coeurl and use it ourselves. We can see like them, hear like them, even move like them, but we’re still human and that’s the important difference.’ I have heard many a tale of you doing exactly that but now you have come into a degree of power not seen in your Clan for many generations. The Lady of Beasts has blessed you.”

With a startling clarity he remembered what had happened during his First Hunt, when he had been all of nine years old. There, in the clearing full of flowers, he had met her. The Great Coeurl. She had treated him like an unruly cup of her pack. At least that made some amount of sense now.

“I… thank you for telling me, _sinehär_ ,” he managed to say, his mind strangely fuzzy. Damn, that drink was way too strong to be just a regular cup of _fumir_. No wonder Istoria kept living on and on if she used this to shock her heart back into pace again. He felt old, gnarly fingers taking the near empty cup from him, and blinked down at his empty hand.

“Go back to your hunting party, Nyx of Clan Ulric and, for once, let them take care of you. Sleep, eat and then you can keep running off into your adventures again,” said Istoria with an air of exasperated tenderness as she gently tapped his leg with her cane to make him turn around.

Nyx really, really wanted to protest, but he knew if he opened his mouth now, nothing coherent would come out. So he did the sensible thing and did as told.

“And tell my grandson I would like to see him for dinner tomorrow evening,” Istoria called after him.

His friends took one look at him before herding him out of the courtyard and towards his apartment building. He didn’t look that bad, did he? Somehow he managed to mumble the invitation to Luche, or at last he thought he did, if he remembered his friend’s grimace right. After that it was all a blur of different colours, shapes and sounds until he felt himself being wrapped into a blanket, then he was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Nyx, that's not (just) the alcohol. You're going into shock. -.-  
> Can anyone tell I love Crowe? I love Crowe. She deserves all the backround info I can cram into this thing.  
> Hope ya'll liked the story told by Istoria (love that name). First I wanted to put the story of Adrastea there but then I realized that A) I already published that here and B) I could fill the plothole about how the coeurl got his paws onto that knife. So, here it is.  
> I'm kind of torn about what's going to happen in the next chapter, but I'll definately publish another part of the series where I'll put outsider POVs in.


	4. The Connections of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which training happens, Nyx is not a housecat, thank you very much, and Regis comes to a logical conclusion.  
> Featuring: Nyx' magic, Cor's people skills, Galahkari hating the Conqueror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been proof-read by the amazing LightsaberWeildingDalek! They also contributed with a few ideas of their own. Thank you so much!

The training ground was empty, the dusty ground largely undisturbed, safe for the clouds that flew up around Nyx as he skidded to a stop, having stumbled over his own feet. Again. How embarrassing. A frustrated huff escaped his lips as he stood there, covered in sweat and dirt from head to toe.

This was beyond vexing. That strange familiar-but-not magic was there, sparking just under his skin, but he could barely direct it the way he wanted it to go. It was like two wills struggling over the magic in a tug of war.

“I think I saw something this time,” called Crowe from the sidelines a few metres away in a tone of voice that said she was absolutely bored. Her eyes, however, told a different story. They glowed with an excitement she positively vibrated with every time she learned something new about magic.

It should have been her. Discovering an innate magical talent no one alive knew how it worked. Not him. She at last deserved it for all the shit the world threw at her.

“... try that.”

“What?”

“Damn it, Nyx! Stop dreaming! I don't want to be accidentally fried because you can't be bothered to figure out how to not spew lightning everywhere.”

Nyx scowled at her, and as if to confirm her words, lightning sparks travelled from his fingers down his blades. His scowl turned into a glare as he fought to keep that  _ animal-deep jungle-instinct _ from making him pounce at the lazily drifting clouds of dust that were illuminated by the late morning sun. Could this be any more annoying? He wasn't a Pitioss damned cat!

“It's not my fault that every time I want to cast lightning it totally goes off the rails. I want to see you trying not to jump at anything that moves while attempting to craft a fucking spell, Crowe,” he said, more peeved at himself than his friend who took time out of her free day to help him figure this out.

“Then concentrate harder,” she grouched right back.

“But I am concentrating!”

“Well, obviously it's not enough! This is your own magic and not some borrowed connection. It should be... instinct... Oh, we're so dumb. Nyx, don't try to actually craft a spell!” She was shouting now, every illusion of boredom gone.

“What?” he asked, stunned. “But you said-”

“I know what I said. I was wrong, okay? Listen. We tried to treat this like Lucian magic with its formal spell system and everything. That kind of magic is very rigid with a very clear set of rules. But yours isn't. This doesn't have the same artificial feel to it. It's more... natural for lack of a better word. You looked like a fucking coeurl on that battlefield, Pelna told me. So try to think like a coeurl.”

Nyx felt his eyebrows rise in disbelief. He wasn't some cat, he wanted to say, but something stopped him from doing so. For a moment he was nine again, full of spiteful determination, as he stared at the biggest coeurl he'd ever seen with white fur and spots the colour of shadows in the snow and eyes as green as the jungle he grew up in. Coeurls weren't house-cats. Far from it. Crowe threw him a smirk like she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

A coeurl, huh?

He looked down at the knives in his hands. They weren't the military issued ones used in the Kingsglaive but a pair of his clan's hunting knives. The only pair he'd been able to smuggle into Insomnia. Their solid and familiar weight was a comfort he had missed dearly. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes to help him focus and reached for the power pulsing like a living creature under his skin.

The moment he made contact with it, it threatened to sweep him up in its current and drag him to places he wasn't ready to be. He centred himself as best as he could but did not fight against the magic finding its own way, did not try to force it into the paths the Lucian magic had carved for itself. He did not know how long he stood there just basking in the power that was wild and untamed and, most importantly, all his.

His first step was cautious, as if he didn't quite trust his feet, his mind and his magic to work together, as if something might fall out of sync the next instant. But it didn't. Emboldened, he took another step, his eyes still closed, then another. He could hear his pack-sister breathing, the air leaving her lungs in astonished wonder as his movements smoothed out with each passing heartbeat. He smelled the sun in the air, the dust and dirt he kicked up, the sharp tinge of ozone. Nyx followed the current of his magic down paths he had never consciously taken and felt the lightning travelling along his arms.

Another step. His arms moved in tandem.

The smell of ozone grew stronger until his fine hearing picked out the crackling, growing louder and louder. A feral smirk tugged at his lips as his movements became more fluid, trailing lightning behind his limbs.

In his mind's eye Nyx saw himself slink through the shadowy darkness of the jungle, the air cool and smelling of damp earth, rotting leaves and growing things. It was an atmosphere so familiar it sent a sharp stab of longing through his heart. The eyes of his pack-sister glinted in the shadows, safe in their distance, but ever so watchful, following his every move. He felt a certain pride and smugness about it and couldn’t resist the urge to leap in a daring jump over the fallen trunk of a tree.

His prey was near now. He could smell it. Musky fur and warm blood and utterly unsuspecting. It sent a thrill of the chase down his spine. His steps made nary a sound as he crept closer towards his unsuspecting prey, muscles tense in anticipation. Claws ripped through a soft flank not a single thought later and lightning sparked yet again as another predator tried to steal his prey. He circled it, growling in warning. Pack-sister's eyes were wary now, her whole being tense and ready to move. He jumped, teeth and claws flashing. The fight was short and brutal; Nyx was victorious. He flexed his claws, a content purr rumbling in his chest.

Nyx opened his eyes and blinked into bright sunlight. For a moment he saw nothing but vague forms in front of a too bright background. Strange. Hadn’t he just been back in the Galahdian jungle? All around him black marks and gouges littered the ground, showing the trail of destruction he had wrought across the training yard.

“What the fuck!”, yelled a voice causing Nyx to whirl around in surprise, not all that alarmed, strangely. It was his pack-sister, Crowe, who stood in a circle of lightning marks. Sweat dripped down her face and her breath came in short bursts, as if she had run for some time. Or had continuously exhausted her magic. “What the fuck did you do, Nyx? That was absolutely brilliant!”

He blinked, his head tilted to the side in curiosity. Slowly, he started to disentangle himself from the currents of his magic and his vision narrowed down. It threw him off balance for a moment before he was able to focus on Crowe again. She walked towards him in long strides, nearly bouncing with each step like a child as he sheathed his knives.

“You're my pack-sister,” he found himself saying.

“Eh, yeah? I'm Crowe? The one your hunting brother claims as his sister?” she said, worry hidden behind the amusement in her tone.

“I know who you are, Crowe,” he said, bristling at what she had said, “but you're my  _ pack-sister _ !”

Nyx stared at her, tried to drill that information into her. It was very important that she knew, he felt. Oh, why had he only met her when she had already been twelve? He could have had pack-in-name. Didn't she understand that?

She stared at him, something flashing in her eyes that was gone too fast for him to discern.

“Thats-,” she started to say but never got to finish.

Suddenly that spark of magic that was wholly himself – and foreign at the same time because he hadn't known for the longest time it was actually there – tensed in a way that made him go absolutely still. A growl worked itself up his throat and suddenly lightning travelled all around with him at the epicentre. Crowe yelped partly in surprise, partly in shock as she stumbled back, even as she had nothing to fear from him. She was pack-sister. Nyx stretched, all coeurl and grace, and took a deep breath that smelled like ozone, dust, sweating human, amazement, shock and... fear?

Positioning himself in front of pack-sister he stared into the shadows between the scattered trunks of stone trees that held the stone-canopy up. Why did he have to stand in the bright sunlight where he could be seen but not see? His nostrils widened in an attempt to sample the air. He could smell the musk of human male, metal, leather and hints of blood. A predator. A predator that smelled of fear. Nyx felt smug. It was good to be recognized as the superior one.

“General Leonis,” he could hear pack-sister say behind him.

Nyx could see a form walk out of the shadows and into the sun. He carefully catalogued every move made by the other male. He would not hurt pack-sister. A warning growl rumbled in his chest when he felt the other male was close enough.

“Sir Ulric, Sir Altius, I hope your... training was fruitful,” he said in greeting, his fear nearly completely hidden but not quite.

Pack-sister boxed him into the small of his back. He jostled and blinked as the magical haze in his mind... cleared was the wrong word. Balanced out? Yes, that. It balanced out and Nyx could think more clearly again, the vague form of the General of the Lucian military clearing to show the features of his face. The older man was staring him not-quite into the eyes with a carefully blank face and Nyx felt inordinately pleased about that.

“The training showed results,” Nyx said, the hissing rumble of coeurl not quite gone from his voice.

“It was very enlightening. May I ask why you are here, General? We have booked the training yard until midday. There hasn't been any issue come up about that, has it, Ser?”

Crowe's voice held a hidden warning Nyx wasn't sure the General understood. The last time a group of Glaives had booked a training yard to train in magic that was to affect an entire area independently, the times had been mixed up with those of the Crownsguard. Crowe was still absolutely furious that her squad of mages hadn't been able to train adequately and as a result two of them had died during the next mission they had been on when the untested spell had nearly exploded into their faces and sucked at their magical energy like a leech.

“There are no issues, I assure you, Sir Altius,” General Leonis said, his gaze never leaving Nyx. “King Regis has sent me to ask you to meet with him as soon as possible, Sir Ulric.”

“Now, Ser?” asked Nyx full of disbelief.

What in the name of his ancestors would the King of Lucis want from him? He didn't dare to look at Crowe, but he could smell her surprise and indignation. And wasn't that still a kick in the gut? His own magic seemed to filter out the information he wanted and needed, otherwise he would have suffered sensory overload a long time ago, he knew. Said magic had calmed and settled down enough that Nyx felt human enough again to make an attempt at polite conversation. Just... why the King of all people? He wished the rest of his pack wasn't on active duty at the moment. He could have used Libertus' steadfastness, Luche's mind for politics and Pelna's way with words right about now.

“If you are amenable to it, Sir Ulric,” nodded the General, strangely formal.

Something was going on here, and it bugged Nyx not to know what it was. He wanted to find out. So he swallowed down all the questions and demands that burned on his tongue and nodded his acceptance.

“Good. I'll wait for you to get ready. Please do not keep His Majesty waiting for too long.” With that and a last nod to the two of them he turned around and walked away.

“Crowe?” Nyx asked, still staring after the retreating form as it vanished back into the building.

“Yes?”

“The fuck just happened?”

“You dumb-ass went all over protective coeurl on the General, spouted a whole lot of lightning and then accepted to meet with the King. What by  _ ahtrii _ were you thinking?”

“I wasn't-”

“May the fires protect me from the idiots of this world,” hissed Crowe under her breath. Should Nyx tell her that he heard that? Probably not. He valued his life, despite what everybody else was saying. “Anyway. Go get ready. Take a shower and maybe redo the braids to pretty yourself up.  _ Ahtrii _ know you need it. You can tell us later what this was all about.”

He scowled at her. Then his face smoothed out in worry. “Are you alright, Crowe? You look like you've tried to wrangle a spell-chain or something.”

“Don't worry about me, you idiot. Do me a favour and worry about yourself for a change, alright? It's not me the King wants to see for whatever reason,” she scoffed and tried to shoo him towards the building.

“I get it, I get it. I'm going already. No need to push,” he grinned, his hands held up in mock surrender.

 

* * *

 

 

His back was ramrod straight and his shoulders tense as Nyx waited in front of the King's private office. It was situated in a part of the citadel the Kingsglaive was not allowed to be outside a life or death emergency. Since he had entered this wing so close to the living quarters of the royal family, General Leonis leading him without really telling him anything, he had the feeling like he was being watched. His magic sparked in agitation and Nyx had to concentrate to not get swept up in its current again and attack something. That wouldn't go down particularly well, he thought.

The General had entered the office not a minute ago, asking him to wait outside. Nyx resisted the urge to tug at his freshly redone braids. Especially at his debtor's braid. He did not like the thing, in fact he hated it, but he owed King Regis a life-debt and even if the King wouldn't be able to know its meaning, or even pick it out from all his other braids, his honour as an Ulric demanded that he wore it in front of the person he owed said debt to.

One bead for one life.

If Selena had survived the collapsing tunnels it would have been two. He would have shouldered her debt as well, no matter how long he would have to bow to a king that wasn't truly his own to pay them.

The door opened and Nyx stood even straighter. The General's light blue eyes fixated on him.

“The King is ready to see you now, Sir Ulric,” he said and stepped to the side to let Nyx inside the spacious room. The coat of his service dress felt like it wanted to constrict his movement with every step he took.

The private office was no less opulent than all the other rooms he had been in over the years, but it managed to exude something that approximated a homey feeling, or at least a lived in one. Wooden panelling stretched over the walls in a warm colour where it could be seen beneath the many bookshelves and historical paintings in their heavy frames. The biggest one hung between the two windows of the room and showed a man that set Nyx' teeth on edge. The Conqueror.

Without any conscious thought did the thumb on his right hand touch the base of his ring finger as said finger and his pinky folded down. It was not a sign to ward away something evil but more a warning to the spirit of the man depicted here.  _ Eternal remembrance and deep resentment; you are not welcome to the places we call our own. _ A truly great start to whatever this was.

Nyx forced himself to look away from the painting and lowered his gaze towards the living King in the room. King Regis sat behind a heavy wooden desk that was covered in stacks of files. Non sensitive, if Nyx was allowed in here. He stepped between the two ornamental chairs in front of the desk and settled into parade rest.

“You asked to see me, your Majesty?”

He suppressed a nervous twitch when the General remained behind him by the door. Luckily the normally ever present Shield wasn't in the room for a change. Otherwise Nyx would have probably jumped straight out of the window, consequences be damned.

The King's green eyes wandered over his face, slowly and thoughtfully, as if he was looking for something. What, by all the Serpents of the Water, was this about? He had to bite down on his tongue to not blurt that question out.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Sir Ulric,” King Regis said, the beginnings of a smile around his eyes. “Please, take a seat.” He motioned towards the chair on Nyx' right.

For a second Nyx didn't know what to do. A Glaive did not just get asked to sit in the presence of the King by said King himself. Then he forced his legs to move and gingerly sat down prepared to jump up at a moments notice. This was so strange. It only made his agitation at the situation even more prominent. The silence stretched for a few seconds too long.

“Your Majesty, why exactly am I here?”

Oh, that had been rude, hadn't it? Crowe would hit him over the head for that one. No, not Crowe, she didn't truly care for Lucian niceties outside of the military. Luche. Definitely Luche. The slightly older man always cared maybe a bit too much about social protocols.

The King, however, only blinked in surprise and tapped the folder that lay closed in front of him. “The accounts about your last mission have been very enlightening, Sir Ulric. We have had concerning news about Nifelheim's forays into magic suppressing technology, Besithia's newest project, but never thought they would have managed to get this far. From what we know now, due to this fight, is that, for now, they can't prevent the casting of magic entirely, but make it more energy consuming.”

Nyx did not like where this was going, not at all. A spark of sudden fury made the smell of ozone burn in his nose again. Damn, he should really get a grip on this. Had they known about this magic suppressing technology and still sent them out? Did this King, this man sitting in front of him even care about the lives lost during that mission? He forced himself to take even breaths. In and out. In and out. Like he had learned from his mother while hunting, back when he hadn't had a clan name yet. It helped to calm the roaring in his ears to a manageable level. One question remained burning in his mind, however: Why was the King telling him this?

“If not for your actions many more lives would have been lost,” the King continued, not noticing Nyx' inner turmoil. “The magic you used; our enemy could not suppress it. At least to a level they could fight it. Tell me, Sir Ulric, how long have you known that you posses a magic of your own?”

The question made his breath stutter in his lungs. For how long? For a split second he considered lying. To lie through his teeth about all of this and call it a day. But he owed this man a life-debt. The weight of the braid pulled at him until he had to fight to keep his head from lowering.

“My mother has told me tales of the magic sleeping in my blood since before I can remember, your Majesty,” he answered haltingly, but truthfully.

King Regis hummed thoughtfully and went back to watching him again with that strange laser-pointed focus. Nyx kept himself from twitching in his seat. Somehow. He wanted to growl at the painting of the Conqueror behind Regis. Even with all the generations between the two men the resemblance was apparent. Near uncanny, in truth. Eyes, their brown so light that they nearly looked yellow, seemed to bore into him and he hated it.

“May I ask you a rather personal question, Sir Ulric?”

The question forced Nyx' focus away from the painting again. “Your Majesty?”

The King took that as permission. “Your father, what can you tell me about him?”

“I...,” Nyx paused, blinked and licked his suddenly dry lips. He could feel his magic spark and burn into the wood of the armrests he clenched until his knuckles turned white. It forced him to take a deep, calming breath. He could not lie, but- “I barely remember him. The last time I saw him I had just turned four. He had been very sick.”

Eyes turning thoughtful, King Regis pulled a folder off the stack to his right and opened it. It was a very thick folder and while Nyx couldn't see what was in it, it gave him a sense of foreboding.

“You were born in 724 ME, correct?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The tension in the room grew steadily until it was thick, tightly curled like a snake ready to jump its victim. Behind him the General moved for the first time since Nyx had sat down. It made him twitch for real. The King sighed, shoulders dropping just a little bit, but it was enough to let the tension bleed out of the room near completely. Green eyes, suddenly tired, focused on him again.

“I will be frank, Sir Ulric, since there is no good way to say this. There are no independent magical lines outside the Lucis Caelums and the Fleurets. As you can imagine, that leads to a few questions as to your lineage.”

Nyx opened his mouth and closed it again half a second later. This was... was the King saying... “What?”

The King had the gall to look apologetic. “There have been a few examples of cadet branches of my family during the earlier history of Lucis; every time the magic in those lines vanished after only two to three generations. Since your magic manifests in a way that clearly implies black magic – even if in a very unusual way – which has happened before, it is a very real possibility that we are in fact quite closely related.”

“You think that we're related,” repeated Nyx with a tongue that would barely move under the weight of those words. It was not a question.

How dare this King, this man sitting in front of him, to imply that- His field of vision widened and shifted and Nyx had to fight his magic back as to not attack something, preferably the people in this room. He did not manage to hold it back entirely, seeing as his vision refused to return to normal, but at last the feeling that the King was threatening his territory had died down. King Regis looked at him with an air of curiosity and hummed as if he had just confirmed something. Nyx' sharpened ears picked up the thundering heartbeat fluttering away like a nervous bird in the older man's chest.

“Over the last few days research was conducted and the possibility is certainly there. My father, the late King Mors, has been in Galahd during the time your Lady Mother would have conceived you, as well as during later times up to 728 ME.”

The lump in his throat made it hard for Nyx to breathe. This could not be happening. At least it explained why the General had been so damn formal with him, he thought near hysterical.

_ I am not a descendant of the Bringer of the Black Ships! Of the reason why so many names were lost and the voice on the autumn storms takes vengeance on us to this day. Death and suffering was all this Conqueror ever brought us. _

“What is it you want from me, your Majesty?”

He somehow managed to not make that sentence sound like an insult.

“Would you be amenable for a DNA test, Sir Ulric? It would answer the questions we have quite nicely.”

Nyx nodded without much thought. His mother would have told him his father was a fucking Lucis Caelum a long time ago, if it were true. If it were the case, he would be sitting here as Nyx Utris and not an Ulric. But the King, the holder of his life-debt, asked him to do a DNA test, and so he would do it without complaint. He truly didn't know what power he had over him. And he was glad for that.

As the small group of three made their way to the infirmary in the citadel, a tiny part of Nyx couldn't help but wonder, doubt festering in the darkest parts of his mind.

_ What if _ , it whispered.  _ What if? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles evily*  
> Is he or is he not, that is the question. Regis seems to think so.  
> Also history stuff! It will come up again later so I won't spoil it here.  
> I hope you liked this chapter. Until next time!


	5. Court Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some talking is done and an idea takes root that is either a stroke of genius or the worst there ever was. Results pending.  
> Featuring: Crowe the magic geek, Pelna the history buff, Nyx' continuing existential crisis and Luche's ill placed blame in the background.
> 
> Warnings:  
> implied genocide, blink and you'll miss the implied rape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hadnissan words:
> 
> Galahkar = person of Galahd  
> ohtahi triantafe = a type of rose native to Galahd with black petals. It's highly poisonous and even the smell can cause hallucinations.  
> Aviosa linmuhru hes quäbehn. = one of the worst ways of cussing; literally: Damned dephs of the underneath. (Basically swearing by the place where the scourge comes from.)  
> ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> mahir = mother; woman who raised me  
> makti-oir = title of the person who leads others into battle; literally: Chieftain of the Hunt  
> sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller

The evening was murky and lukewarm as Nyx finally found Libertus, Crowe, Pelna and Luche occupying the usual table in that little outdoor eatery they all frequented regularly. They sat there, cups of something steaming hot with a bitter smell in front of them, and a platter of striped meat covered in what counted as a sorry excuse of edible seaweed in this city, between them. They had clearly been waiting for him.

Without so much as a greeting or paying attention to his friends' curious faces he stole Libertus' cup, who only gave a token of resistance, and drank it down in two large gulps as he plopped down on the only free chair left. It scalded his tongue but he didn't really care. This hot the strong bitter-leaf tea was even semi-palatable. He was kind of put out, however, that it wasn't alcohol. Nyx set the cup down harder than he needed to, proceeded to lay his head on the table and groan pitifully. Bellowing laughter was his answer and if looks could kill every single one of his friends would be dead now.

“Where's the alcohol?” he asked – more like whined but he would never admit to it – and forced himself to sit up when Pelna set a cup in front of him without a word. Had he mentioned that he was his favourite friend right now?

Nyx took a sip from the cup – it was something that burned all the way down, cheap and Lucian – and as he finally looked up again, saw four faces in front of him with expressions ranging from exasperated to down right ready to strangle him. He resisted the urge to needle them a bit, if only to evade the dreaded subject for a few seconds more. They all stared at each other for a bit longer until Libertus made a noise at the back of his throat.

“Shit, man. What by the Depths happened? The last time you looked at me like that...” he didn't finish the sentence and shook his head, clear worry in his eyes now.

“It was a shit show from the very start,” Nyx forced himself to say and took another burning mouthful of the cheap alcohol. It tasted like piss. Or worse. He hadn't quite decided that yet.

“It's the royal house of Lucis we're talking about here. What did you expect? Also, aren't you going to take that out?” Luche gestured at the left side of his head where the debtor's braid still hung, heavier than it had any right to be.

Nyx grimaced and tugged at it. “Have to go back later.” 

Which was also the reason why he hadn't changed out of his service dress yet. Still, he finally shrugged out of the overcoat with its stiff collar and heavy black and grey fabric. Luckily what he wore underneath that was made of breathable fabric and light, even with its long sleeves, the black colour and the intricate silver embroidery on it. The latter a poor attempt at cultural acknowledgement. There was no rhyme nor reason to the patterns that would normally be carefully arranged in meaningful compositions mostly used on the northern islands. The most one could read out of it was _'Prosperity for Death'_ if one squinted and tilted the head just so.

“What? Why?” asked Libertus and managed to sound indignant and put out at once.

Nyx sighed and desperately tried to find an answer that didn't make everybody at the table explode. Well, if he hadn't found a way to break the news gently and without more drama than necessary on the way down from the citadel, he wouldn't find one now.

“If you ever get invited into the King's private study be aware that a painting of the Conqueror King hangs there smack dab in the middle of the wall right behind the desk. It stares at you like it wants to kill you,” he started. This was the aspect of that awful meeting he could talk about without having the urge to jump over the railing into mess of piping below.

Their reactions were nearly funny, if this hadn't been such a sensitive subject for any _Galahkar_ who still drew breath and especially for those who had lost family and friends to the Voice on the autumn storms. Libertus cursed up a storm, Crowe looked like she wanted to set something on fire and Luche had gone stone faced, his lips pressed into a hard line.

“But why would the King do that?” asked Pelna, his eyes growing wide. “The Traitor King's portrait was taken down everywhere, safe for the Gallery of Kings, after the people learned what he did in Cleigne. So why not the Conqueror's? Is the King trying to invoke his spirit? We won't accept him, surely the King knows that.”

“I really doubt that the Lucians invoke their ancestors for anything. Not with how fiercely they cling to the crystal and their Astrals. Especially Bahamut,” Luche said the Astral's name with an impressive amount of contempt.

“I don't think he did it on purpose,” offered Nyx, not really believing he had just said that.

“You defending that man again? I can't believe you, Nyx,” grouched Libertus and winced when Crowe kicked him in the shin under the table. Nyx hid his grin at that behind his cup. Libertus shot her a betrayed look.

“Oh come on. You know exactly what that was for, you big oaf. Sometimes I can't believe you.”

“I don't try to defend him, but I'm getting the feeling that there's much we know that he and all the other Lucians don't,” said Nyx and pushed the cup away from him, still more than half full. 

It would be better, if he didn't drink too much alcohol right now. He had to meet with the King again in a few hours and he didn't want to be tipsy or worse, drunk, then. Instead he forced himself to eat something. Like he had expected, the seaweed didn't taste all that good, but it was edible enough. Libertus stared at the platter like it had personally offended him.

“They really don't know all that much,” nodded Pelna. “Not with how they all write it down in ten different ways and then argue which of those is the true one.”

“Of course they don't. They're hiding behind their walls and all like they could solve all their problems,” grumbled Libertus and proceeded to quietly complain about the food. The only reason he did so quietly was that this time the meat was better than the last time they had had this specific dish.

Luche leaned forward a bit, his face still serious where the others, including Nyx, had started to relax a bit in the face of old and well trodden arguments. “That's not all there is, isn't it?”

At once all eyes were on Nyx again. He chewed slowly to buy himself more time, but it didn't help one bit to bring some kind of order to the chaos swirling in his head. He didn't even want to think about it. About how the King thought he could be his brother. Which he most certainly wasn't.

Probably.

Fuck, why did this have to happen to him?

“ Eos to Nyx. Has the  _ ohtahi triantafe  _ stolen your mind this time?” asked Crowe while waving a hand in front of his face.

Nyx flinched and stared. “There's not any growing around here,” he said. 

It hadn't been his fault that he had fallen into a bush of them once as a teenager when he had been dared to free climb a steep part of the cliff near his home village. That slateroc had startled him! How was he supposed to have known that those damned roses had grown there and made him hallucinate the weirdest shit? She stared at him like he was stupid, which in this situation was rather justified to be honest.

“Whatever happened, it's made you really out of it,” said Libertus in this non-request to talk to him, he usually did when he thought that things were getting serious.

“ It's...” he sighed and carded a hand through his hair. “ _ Aviosa linmuhru hes quäbehn _ .”

Pelna nearly spat his drink over the table, jerking comically in his seat, and next to Nyx Libertus choked on his spit. Crowe just raised her eyebrows and Luche was the kind of blank he got when he carefully restrained himself from doing something he considered beneath him.

“It must have been quite something,” stated Crowe at last when everybody had themselves back under control. Including Nyx who felt the irrational urge giggle. Damn his non existent alcohol tolerance.

“You can say that again,” he muttered.

“Out with it, Nyx. And I swear, if you try to give me a heart attack again, I will throttle you,” threatened Libertus and stared at Nyx like he wanted to read his mind.

“It's not my fault you've got such a weak heart, big guy,” Nyx grouched half heartedly and sighed again. His shoulders slumped and he slouched in his seat, which was probably the only reason the others didn't say anything this time. “I got called to the King because of the magic thing I have. Apparently Lucians think that 'true independent' magic is only found in two families in all of Eos.”

“Wait, really? That's ridiculous,” said Crowe full of indignation but didn't bother to elaborate. Everybody in the whole Glaive knew her views on magic and the Lucians' habit of ignoring the more subtle things it was able to do.

Nyx made a gesture that clearly said _you're telling me?_ while he pulled himself upright again. He was an Ulric, damn it, and he would act like one. Even if – _if_ – the King's suspicions turned out to be true he had _earned_ that name. Lived by it and its values most of his life. His mother had named Ilias Ulric his father and the man had accepted him as his son. That was all that counted, was important, should be important to him. His ancestors, those that guided him and had a part in making him the man he was today, were the Ulrics and not the Lucis Caelums. But why then, if he knew that with absolute certainty, did he have a bitter taste in his mouth?

“I think we already established that Lucians have no idea about the things that are actually important,” stated Luche.

“Yeah, but where do they think all of the attributes the flora and fauna showcase come from? How do they think do killer bees turn the pollen they collect into poison when they feel threatened?” Crowe spoke like the Lucians' ignorance had personally offended her.

_ Maybe it actually does _ , Nyx thought,  _ at least where magic is concerned. _

Before the Fall of Galahd Crowe had made a large portion of her money hunting down the nests of the bigger bee species', and harvesting their honey. It was very dangerous work but the honey had great medical properties, not to mention it tasted good, so it was well worth it, if one wasn't stupid enough to aggravate the insects.

“Anyway,” said Nyx to get them back on track again. Before this dissolved into a discussion of the magical properties of nature and the spirits that lived within it. Once Crowe got started, it was hard to get her to stop. “The King thinks I may be a Lucis Caelum bastard.”

There. He had said it. For a few seconds there was disbelieving silence, before bellowing laughter sounded from the people around the table for the second time this evening. Even Luche couldn't suppress an amused chuckle.

“ _ Ahtrii _ , Nyx. Everybody who knows about the Ulrics knows that you're one of them and nothing else. You embody everything they are, down to your reckless possessiveness. Even I know that and I don't come from the same island as you,” said Pelna still gasping for breath and rubbing tears of laughter from his eyes.

Nyx would never admit it to anybody but at that statement he felt something deep within him relax. His magic sparked again and he felt the urge to drape himself all over the darker skinned man and purr. He bit his tongue and kept his lips tightly shut to not start purring right then and there.

“Nyx,” said Libertus and patted him on the shoulder in a comforting way, “even if... you know, this happens to be true, the Lucii, or whatever they call them, are not your ancestors, you realize. You earned your name the same way everybody else who does, did. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. The only people from beyond the gate who have any influence over you are the Ulrics and those deadbeat Kings can natter on all they want. It's not like their own descendants are listening.”

“Thanks, Libs,” murmured Nyx and sent his hunting brother weak smile.

This meant more to him than he had thought it would. A warm feeling grew in his chest until it was a little sun behind his sternum. He loved these people with all his being and he would do everything in his power to protect them. That he swore by the ancestors he had chosen and that had chosen him, by the Great Coeurl who had made it so and by the spirits of Galahd who still connected all of them. He had sworn it so before but this time it left the taste of magic on his tongue that gave it a different kind of gravity.

“I can't quite wrap my head around it. What does the King hope will happen if Nyx turns out to be his... relation?” Pelna looked at Nyx for information after a long moment of silence.

“Brother,” he said and nodded towards Luche in thanks who put down a cup full of bitter-leaf tea in front of him. In this eatery it was the only Galahdian thing one could drink that actually tasted genuine. But maybe the reason for that was that even under normal circumstances bitter-leaf tea tasted like shit.

“Brother,” Pelna repeated and paused. “That's quite the age gap, though.”

“So, Mors Lucis Caelum. The guy who pulled the Wall back from encompassing all of Cavaugh to just surround Insomnia,” said Crowe with a frown on her face.

“Why do you know that?” asked Libertus.

“How do you know that?” asked Luche at the same time.

The mage shrugged. “I make damn sure to blame the right people for shit they've done. Otherwise it just gets messy.”

There was a flicker in Luche's eyes that was gone as fast as it had appeared. Nyx had no time to think about it because Pelna started speaking at that moment: “He's also the first Lucian King since the Wanderer King who personally came to Galahd. Not sure if he was just that careless or had balls of steel.”

“Lucis always thought of Galahd as a full part of their territory, even if all we did was pay our taxes sometimes and they did nothing for us. With that it's not surprising that he walked into Galahd like he owned it. Lucis, especially the Lucis Cealums always had a special kind of arrogance.” Luche said this with carefully projected carelessness that Nyx didn't buy and neither did the others, if the looks they shot each other was any indication.

A thought practically hit Nyx over the head. He choked and nearly started to swear to the Gates of Death and back again. “The King thinks _mahir_ slept with his father.” He didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

“No shit. Your _mahir_ would've sooner clobbered that Mors over the head with one of her smithing hammers than let herself be touched by him,” guffawed Libertus.

Crowe snorted and nodded and Nyx couldn't help but agree. His mother would have never accepted a Lucian in her bed. Not after what a Lucian hunter had done to her sister when she had gone looking for Solheimr ruins on the mainland. Alyxa Utris had been resentful like that.

“Lucian Kings have never struck me as overly intelligent,” mumbled Pelna and put another piece of meat into his mouth.

“ It's not like the King knew  _ mahir _ ,” Nyx couldn't help but point out. Not that he knew that for certain since the King had been in Galahd for the second to last leg of fighting they had done there and she had been purely a weapons smith by that point, but he would never have come to this outrageous conclusion if he had.

“That's only part of why I doubt their intelligence and I didn't even know your mother for more than two weeks,” said Pelna after swallowing. “It's also the abhorrent state of our supplies and equipment. Our radio sets are too old and too susceptible to hacking because of it.”

“Haven't you told Drautos?” Libertus wanted to know.

“Of course I did! Drautos said he would talk to the General and the King about it, but until now nothing has happened.”

“When did you talk to him?” asked Luche, his eyes suddenly intense.

“A few weeks ago. I wanted to speak to him again about it but then that mission happened and until now I haven't had the chance to do so.”

“I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow. I'll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Luche.” Pelna smiled in gratitude.

Nyx couldn't help but frown. “Something about this stinks to the Lows and back.”

“You're telling me? No offence Luche, but why was Pelna's Unit the one to infiltrate the compound and not Sonitus'? His is the stealth unit,” asked Crowe, her gestures wide and jerky.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Crowe,” Said Pelna with a grin.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

Luche made a face. It looked like he was fighting with himself, trying to decide what to say. “Those were the orders. I couldn't simply ignore them.”

“Know what? Fuck those orders! Next time we're doing things our way. The Lucians have no idea how to execute a proper hunt. It's no wonder they're losing ground by the day with those crap orders. Not even our best hunters can balance that out.” Libertus nearly exploded in outrage when he said that.

“That's coming very close to treason,” stated Luche, but there was something in the way he said it that didn't make it sound like an admonishment.

Libertus ground his teeth but didn't say anything.

“ To do anything effectively, short of a Great Hunt, which we can't simply call, we would need a  _ makti-oir _ ,” Pelna said slowly like he was tasting each word out in his mouth.

“We would need to talk to our people about it and without the _sinehär gisdrauhtis_ on our side it would be a lost cause before we would have even started. And if it comes to a vote, it won't be subtle,” added Nyx. The Gil had already been tossed, so why not add a little more spin to it?

Luche carded both hands through his hair. “I cannot believe we're seriously talking about this.”

“It's better than more of us dying because they can't get things sorted out correctly,” shrugged Crowe, a dark look on her face. No doubt she was thinking about the training ground incident again.

They all fell into a thoughtful silence, considering this insane idea for its merits and flaws. Nyx wondered what would happen if they actually managed to do all this. Vote for a  _ makti-oir  _ and then tell the Lucians they would from now on hunt the proper way. He didn't imagine it would go over overly well.

The ringing of his phone broke the silence. He jerked in surprise and hurried to fish it out of his coat pocket.

“Ulric speaking,” he said in Lucian for the first time he had sat down, his accent thicker for it. He already knew who it was.

“Good evening, Sir Ulric. The test results are here. Please come back to the citadel at your earliest convenience. The guards will let you through to his Majesty's private study without issue,” said General Leonis, sounding just a tad impatient.

Translation:  _ Be there at once. _

“Of course General,” Nyx answered and wondered what had crawled up the General's ass now as he hung up without another word. Had there been some kind of noise in the background? He wasn't quite sure.

He nodded towards his friends as he stood up and put on the coat again. “I'll see you later guys.”

A chorus of good-byes sounded after him – Libertus, the ass, yelled the traditional words of the Last Journey – as he trudged up the stairs towards what felt like a funeral.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe.  
> So next chapter we'll know!  
> Also I should really try to pace myself with the foreign words... oh, well.  
> Parts of this conversation literally ambused me and were definately Not Planned. These characters have a life of their own, I tell you. Anybody else get the feeling like things may grow explosive?


	6. Blood Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an answer to a dreaded question and more news come knocking th next morning.  
> Featuring:  
> The Conqueror killing the mood, Nyx being a lightweight, his not-so-secret sweet tooth, Libertus's dinner parties, shitty housing and Pelna's family.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Copious amounts of swearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of words used:
> 
> Galahkar = person pf Galahd  
> rabhithisaikna = sign of remembrance and resentment, a warning; mentioned in chapter 4  
> ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
> buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun)  
> iskaral = the tale; along the lines of an untrue story, mostly used for fairytales but also made up stories in general  
> si = my  
> pehwa = term of endearment for a woman; lit.: the fire

Nyx found himself within King Regis' private study again faster than he would have liked. In fact, he would have preferred to never step foot into it again. Being more or less prepared for it this time didn't make him feel any less on edge.

The Conqueror King stared down at him as if he knew exactly who and what he was, and wanted to cut him down for it. His Blood Axe was something no  _ Galahkar _ wanted to see in their lives. Nyx' fingers curled into  _ rabhithisaikna _ again.

This time it wasn't only King Regis and the General there, but also Shield Amicitia. The Shield looked like he bit into something sour as he stood by the King's left shoulder, who sat behind the heavy wooden desk again. General Leonis stood a bit off to the right, his arms crossed, but his eyes were as alert as ever. Nyx wanted to pace, mark the line that the other three occupants of this room should not dare cross. Instead he forced himself to bow.

The King looked at him, his face still guarded but also strangely open in a way he had never seen. It made him want to hiss and leave the room before he did something stupid.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield, General,” he said in greeting and settled into parade rest.

“Good evening, Sir Ulric. Thank you again for taking the time to settle the matter. Take a seat, then we may look at the results,” said the King and motioned again at the chair to Nyx' right.

“Of course, your Majesty.”

He nodded his thanks and sat down again, the palms of his hands carefully pressed against the wooden armrests. Hopefully he wouldn't leave any marks on the obviously very old, and very expensive piece of furniture. Since he had arrived at the citadel again, his magic had been restless, sparking between his fingertips and warping his field of vision until he felt oddly off balance. Yet again, he was made aware that he seriously needed to work at his control. He was just waiting until he blew up something important, like his phone or his fridge or something.

The King picked up the crisp envelope sitting on the desk in front of him, and opened it with great care. It contained only one sheet of paper. As the King unfolded it, Nyx felt his magic spark again and hid a wince. He felt the spark digging through the wood. That was not good. Not good at all.

With baited breath, and his heart hammering away in his chest like it could run away from this bizarre situation, he watched as King Regis read the sheet of paper and his face became a careful mask of absolute neutrality. Any warmth that may have been there, vanished. Without a word he sat the paper down and pushed it over the desk until Nyx could grab it without standing up. As he leant forward he got a glance at the multiple picture frames cluttering the desk. Most of the ones he could see showed either the prince or a beautiful woman with startling blue eyes and dark brown hair. The late queen.

Nyx didn't even try to bother with the technical terms jumping out at him as his eyes devoured the few lines cleanly printed on the paper until he came to the part he had been looking for.

No relation.

_ No relation. _

Thank  _ ahtrii _ .

Carefully not sagging as relief flooded his system like a tidal wave, he folded the sheet back up again and laid it down on the part of the desk he could reach. A part of him, that he hadn't realized had been quite so restless, finally settled down along with his magic. There was no threat to his blood here, to his integrity as a  _ Galahkar _ and head of the Ulric Clan.

“I take it was negative,” said General Leonis, more a statement than a question.

King Regis gave the barest hint of a nod. “Yes. Yes it was.”

For the fraction of a second Shield Amicitia's face gained an expression similar to one Libertus often sported. It was the face his hunting brother gained when he knew he was right about something that Nyx didn't want to hear. His eyes settled on the King again, who, despite the wall of neutrality he had erected around him, looked like he had aged years within seconds.

Now Nyx understood what that openness on the King's face had been. Hope. Resolutely he pushed the first signs of growing sympathy away and as far down as he could manage.

“Then we must decide what needs to be done now,” said Shield Amicitia, brisk and business-like as always.

What was there to be done? As far as Nyx was concerned this farce was over and done with, he would really like to go home now and forget this ever happened. He bit down on his tongue to not blurt any of this out loud in present company.

King Regis gave a little hum as he leaned slightly back in his chair. “The origin of your magic is still an unanswered question, Sir Ulric. As is your relation to other important individuals, though I admit that it is rather more unlikely than the potential connection to my line.”

Nyx wanted to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.  _ Ahtrii _ . He had to remind himself that there hadn't been a direct question in that statement and so he wasn't bound to answer. No, he wasn't. He dearly wanted to point out that the world didn't revolve around the Lucian way.

He could practically taste the sudden cold formality in those words as well. Nyx felt his fingers twitch against the armrests. Was the King really that disappointed in their lack of blood relation? His gaze wandered back towards the picture frames on the desk. Family was something the man clearly treasured. That was something Nyx could respect about the King. Painted light brown eyes practically burned into him and every shred of growing sympathy was yet again thrown out the window.

“I think we can continue this another time, your Majesty. Sir Ulric's squad won't be on active duty outside the wall for two weeks yet. Let the tempers cool down so that we can make a rational decision on this matter.”

Nyx had felt the General's gaze lingering on him for most of the meeting, but now his gaze was firmly set on the King. If Nyx didn't know better, he would say it looked like a warning. When had the air in the room become this charged?

At once he felt his hackles rise and his lips twitch at the urge to bare his teeth in warning. A voice in the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Luche during one of his snooty moods, told him that it was a pretty bad idea to directly threaten the King of the nation who had taken them in as refugees and he owed a life-debt to.

For the fraction of a second the King looked like he wanted to argue. He sighed, strangely defeated. “You are certainly right, Cor. Sir Ulric, I apologize for this misunderstanding. It was not my intention. Also please be ready for another summon during the next few days.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” nodded Nyx and stood up, taking this as a dismissal.

“One more thing: No word of this to anyone. We do not want the wrong people to hear of this.”

Nyx bowed. “Of course, your Majesty,” he repeated.

Finally, finally he was able to leave this awful room behind. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the tension in his body relax a fraction. Now back to his apartment to see if any of his alcohol had survived the last 'hooray we're still alive' party. He could really use a drink right about now.

 

* * *

 

 

The first sensation Nyx woke to the following morning – at last he assumed it to be the following morning – was an insistent throbbing in his skull. He grimaced at the stale taste in his mouth and the fuzzy feeling his tongue gave off and forced his eyes to open. It didn't make his headache any better.

_ Fuck, I didn't even drink that much. _

The throbbing in his skull grew worse until he realized that part of it came from an insistent banging against his door. With a hoarse groan –  _ ahtrii _ his throat was parched – Nyx peeled himself out of his bed.

“Damn it, Nyx! Open that door, you hero, I know you're there!”

Said hero stared blankly at his closed door. By all the spots of the Lady, what did Libertus want from him at – he glanced at his alarm clock – 6:30 in the morning? He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave again. Fuck. Barely awake for a minute and already Nyx could feel this day go down the drain.

Twisting the handle and kicking the edge of the door so that it wouldn't drag over his already ratty nylon floor, he pulled it open and came face to face with a wild eyed hunting brother who stormed into his apartment without another word.

“Took you long enough.  _ Kohna _ , have you any idea what's going on out there? It's a madhouse. A fucking madhouse. What the fuck happened yesterday after you left?”

Nyx let Libertus ramble for a moment and shuffled over to the sink to get a glass of water. His headache receded a bit and made it possible for him to hear his own thoughts again.

“Fuck, man. Did you even hear a word I just said?”

“I practically fell out of bed a minute ago because you hammered at my door like a hunted man, big guy. I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Nyx, decidedly unimpressed by this whole situation.

“Right... right,” muttered Libertus and dragged a hand through his hair. The heavyset man practically flung himself into a chair. “Did you drink last night?” he asked incredulously, the  _ without me _ practically filling the silence between them.

Nyx finished his second glass of water before he progressed to the ancient coffee machine sitting on his counter, pulling up an extra cup for his unexpected guest. As the hot water gurgled he stared unimpressed at Libertus, who made a face. They fell into an easy silence until two cups full of coffee were set down on the rickety table.

“So, care to tell me now what happened this early in the morning, on a free day no less? You look like a chickatrice got a few pecks out of you.”

He hid his grin behind his cup as Libertus glared at him.

“Yeah, laugh it up. You wouldn't look any better if this had happened to you. I walk out of the house this morning to get some more yoghurt and as soon as I step out on the walkway I get swarmed by reporters asking questions about you. I ask again: What happened yesterday evening?”

Like an anak calf caught in the headlights, Nyx froze, his cup halfway towards his mouth, and stared.

“What the fuck?”

“My words exactly! Now tell me.”

“No, seriously. What the fuck? The King forbid anyone who knew anything from talking. No one should know, especially the press!” Nyx groaned pathetically and buried his head in his hands. “I hope he doesn't think I blabbed.”

“Okay, so no telling. What are you going to do now?” asked Libertus.

“Now I'm going over to Pelna's. If anyone can find out what the press knows, it's him,” answered Nyx, jugged the rest of his coffee and stood up.

Pelna was one of the few people in this apartment complex with a working internet connection and a computer that didn't look like it would fall to pieces the moment you touched it. He felt his hunting brother's eyes on him as he made his way to the door.

“Maybe you should, you know, actually get dressed before you head over. Wouldn't want to give Pelna a heart attack because you flashed his nieces or something.”

Nyx stopped, his hand on the door handle and looked down at himself. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy old sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. Cursing under his breath he turned around to pull on a threadbare t-shirt and look for a pair of jeans to wear. He threw a sock at his best friend's head when he didn't stop sniggering. That idiot.

Not waiting for Libertus, and still barefoot, he walked out the door towards an apartment two floors down. He could hear Libertus' hurried steps behind him, cursing all the way. Nyx couldn't help the grin growing on his face.

The door to Pelna's apartment opened before they could even knock. Out spilt his two nieces, Ker and Dione, and his son, Moireus. All three of them ready to go to school and kindergarten, as was the case with Moireus.

“Morning, kids,” greeted Nyx and lifted a hand to his collarbone, his palm parallel to the ground. Next to him Libertus did the same.

Ker, the oldest of the group at sixteen, saw them first. Her cheeks grew a dusty red as she returned the greeting.

“Nyx!” yelled Moireus, who ran past his elder cousin, and tackled him in a hug.

“Hey,  _ buhgil _ . On your way to school I see,” laughed Nyx and tousled the boy's curly black hair.

The five year old nodded with a bright smile and proceeded to hug Libertus, who gave an amused huff and threw the boy over his shoulder like a sack of wool, teasing a shrieking laugh out of him.

“Ah Nyx, I thought I heard your name. Morning Libertus. What's got you two here this early in the morning?”

Pelna appeared in the doorway behind the children. He looked way more awake than Nyx knew he himself did.

“Morning Pelna. There's a group of reporters out in front of the house. You kids should take the way through the washing room,” said Libertus and sat Moireus back down on his feet.

“Thanks for the warning,” said Dione. “Come on, we're going to be late and I don't want to give my teacher another reason to give me detention.”

The three gave their goodbyes.

Pelna let them into his apartment. It was easily twice as large as Nyx's, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and everything else crammed into the last one, but still too small to comfortably fit five people.

“You guys already ate breakfast?”

“Got derailed by crazy journalists.” / “Libs threw me out of bed twenty minutes ago.”

“Right,” drawled Pelna and proceeded to throw together a meal made of thick slices of cold breakfast meat with eggs and yoghurt with fruit and nuts while the tea got ready. Nyx' stomach rumbled loudly. He had barely eaten anything yesterday evening, having been too nervous to stomach much.

“Where's Tethys?” he asked before shovelling a slice of meat into his mouth.

It was anak meat instead of garula, but still good.

“Still down by the docks. Depending on how much fish they caught it might still be a while until she comes home.”

“I wanted to ask her for some sea bass for the next big dinner. I can trust her to have good quality fish instead of the crap others try to sell you as safe to consume,” said Libertus, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“Tethys is scheduled to go out again tomorrow, so you could ask her then,” suggested Pelna.

Libertus grunted in acceptance. He regularly asked Tethys for good quality fish at a reasonable price for his regular cooking projects Nyx, Crowe and Pelna's family always got invited to. It was always an event and Nyx couldn't wait for the next one.

They finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence. After they finished washing the dishes they sat down with fresh cups of tea. Nyx felt satisfied and sleepy, like he could curl up in the patch of morning sunlight hitting the chair he sat in and fall asleep. A near silent purr rumbled in his chest. He ignored the glances the other two men shot him and took a sip of the tea. Thankfully it wasn't bitter-leaf, but something floral that also smelt strongly like mint. It helped chasing the last vestiges of his hangover away.

“So, not that I mind the surprise visit, but why did you really come over?”

The question startled him back into the present. The tranquil sensation his magic gave off didn't vanish. It felt like a satisfied cat ready to take a nap. Nyx blinked. That was new. Another sip of tea made him miss Crowe's honey even more than he usually did. Libertus looked at him when he didn't answer and rolled his eyes.

“We need to use your computer. Those reporters down there were asking questions about Nyx and his audiences with the King. Apparently they're not even supposed to know that. We need to find out what they actually do know and how,” grumbled Libertus.

“That doesn't sound good. Wait a moment, I'm going to fetch the laptop.”

Pelna stood up and went over to the desk, covered in pencils, schoolbooks and colouring books and pulled a slightly beaten up laptop out from under a pile of loose paper. It was a slightly older model that he mostly used for non-sensitive work when he needed to be at home during work hours. One of the few concessions he had managed to wrangle out of the government concerning his situation. It was relatively quiet for the next few minutes as Pelna searched the far reaching depths of the moogle network.

Suddenly, the man winced and hissed in sympathy. “Well, that's not good.”

At once Nyx stood behind Pelna so that he could read over his shoulder, Libertus right next to him. The site displayed was from a moderately popular gossip rag that liked to specialize in conspiracy theories. There, on their front page, in bold letters, a headline stared up at Nyx that made him want to kill something.

 

**New member of the royal family?!**

_ King Regis ordered paternity test for Glaive Nyx Ulric! _

 

“That's one big pile of shit,” stated Libertus.

“That it's 'one big pile of shit' doesn't make it any better,” hissed Nyx, his hackles rising and magic coming to the surface. Lighting sparked between his fingers and his vision shifted until it looked like the contrast setting had been turned too bright when he looked directly into a light source.

“Wow, wow, calm down hero. No blowing up the computer. Pelna still needs it for more than selling scrap metal,” said Libertus, herding him back to his chair.

Nyx took a series of deep breaths as he took in the scents of his hunting brother and pack mate near him. They seemed more concerned about him than worried about the untrue words. It helped him calm down enough that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Like frying that shitty piece of technology.

“They don't seem to know much more than that you were ordered to do a blood test to see if you're related to the King, Nyx,” said Pelna, having skimmed the article. “There's no word about what came of it or why exactly it was ordered in the first place. Also, the only papers actually writing about this are the gossip rags, and not even the good ones.”

“Since when are there good ones?” asked Libertus, incredulous.

Nyx snorted in amusement.

“Tethys likes reading  _ For You _ ,” Pelna said, clearly embarrassed.

A disbelieving hum rumbled through Libertus' chest as he shared an amused glance with Nyx. Pelna glared at them, disgruntled, but in good humour.

“Anyway,” he said and turned back towards the laptop, “it's not as bad as it could have been. Some of the articles are pretty amusing. One is accusing Nyx of stealing magic and so blaming the King's bad health on him and another is trying to dig up the King's secret love affair that clearly spawned you. There's even one accusing you of being a Nif spy planted to gain the crown's trust, Nyx.”

That statement startled a laugh out of him while his hunting brother nearly snorted his tea out through his nose.

“And people believe that crap? Those are clearly  _ iskarali _ .”

As an answer, Pelna shrugged. “You're my friend, Nyx, but I'm not wading through the comment sections for you. There's only a certain level of stupidity I can stand in a day.”

“We love you, too,” grinned Nyx and clapped the dark skinned man on the shoulder. “Do they say where they got their information from?”

Pelna blinked, glanced back at the screen and shook his head. “Some of them a citing an 'anonymous source' but nothing more. With how they're telling it, I think it was the source that came to them and not the other way around.”

Nyx wasn't quite sure if that was reassuring or not.

His phone started ringing. He closed his eyes and dearly hoped it wasn't Captain Drautos, or worse, General Leonis. As it turned out it wasn't either of them and for some reason that only made this worse.

“Ulric speaking.”

The sudden switch from Hadnissa to Lucian felt as awkward on his tongue like it always did.

“Good morning, Sir Ulric. This is Mendaci Auris from  _ The Flash _ . We are a newspaper specializing in all things social and I was hoping-”

He had pushed the button to end the call before he even realized he was doing it. Libertus and Pelna were watching him as he practically threw the phone on the table with a well placed curse. It was an old phone from a time when touchscreens hadn't been invented yet.

“The press?” asked Pelna with a knowing tilt to his head.

Nyx just glared at him. How had they even gotten their hands on his number? He somehow doubted that a member of the community had simply handed it over. The image about a reporter asking Titus of all people for his phone number was hilarious enough to make him grin despite the situation.

“Not to blunt anybody’s blades or anything, but how are we going to deal with the crowd outside the house? I can't imagine that the others will be very happy about this,” said Libertus.

Both of them looked at Pelna who held his hands up in not quite surrender. “Hey, don't look at me. I have no clue how to deal with something like this.”

“But you're the communications specialist,” whined Libertus.

Before anyone of them could answer that the entry door opened and Tethys walked in accompanied by Luche and Axis. All three of them looked as if they were put through the wringer.

“Pelna, do you know why there's a horde of reporters outside the house that is asking after Nyx? Oh, hello Libertus, Nyx. Do any of you know what's going on? I warned the residents I met on the way not to use the front entrance, but it's only a matter of time until those people find the backdoor.”

Tethys' voice was unusually low and held the hint of a warning. She was a small and muscular woman with even darker skin than Pelna's, which was only partly due to her spending large portions of the day outside.

“Welcome back,  _ si pehwa _ . How was work?” asked Pelna with a smile.

Tethys gave him a look.

“Why does everybody think I'm an expert in this?” he moaned and threw his hands up in exasperation.

Nyx leaned back in his chair and groaned.

Was it still too early to have a drink?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it!  
> And we finally have an answer to the question of whether Nyx is related to Regis. It's no. No, he's not.  
> It took me ages to decide on names for Pelna's family. They're all taken from Greek mythology.  
> Pelna's wife Tethys is a fisherwoman and they have a son names Moireus. His nieces Ker (16) and Dione (13) are the children of his older brother who died as a Glaive early on. Their mother died of sickness a few years later.  
> Hope you had fun reading!
> 
> Until next chapter :)


	7. Moot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nyx parkours aound Little Galahd and old people debate while everybody else watches.
> 
> Featuring:  
> hunting reporters, Nyx' recklessnes, politics, old people with agendas, family drama in the background, Ulric clan history, Nyx' lack of self worth, magic, and did I mention politics?
> 
> Warnings:  
> mentions of war, flight and death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreign words:
> 
> sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller  
> cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number  
> druhm = edible root that looks like a black carrot and tastes a bit like hazelnut and is sweet like beetroot, can be used in teas, be roasted or cooked  
> maneth = mother, stepmother; affectionate term  
> oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title  
> Galahkari = people of Galahd  
> ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter  
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
> buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun)

Nyx scaled the outer wall of the concrete building with all the grace of a disgruntled cat. Muttering obscene curses under his breath, he swung himself over the railing and landed on the flat roof in a crouch with nary a sound.

The day had started so well. Considering the circumstances, that is.

It had been an absolute disaster.

After being thrown out of bed by Libertus and swinging by Pelna's place to find out what the realms of Pitioss was going on,  _ sinehär gisdrauht _ Istoria Patientia had come by personally to 'invite' him to a  _ cünaniu _ that was to happen this afternoon. It had been shortly after lunch, Pelna, Libertus, Luche and Axis had to attend a spontaneous training exercise and so hadn't been there. Nyx himself was still on medical leave and so Tethys had invited him to stay.

Greetings had been exchanged. Istoria sat at the table, a steaming cup of the traditional tea of welcome in front of her. The smell of  _ druhm _ roots, pepper, cardamom, liquorice and honey made Nyx think back to his sister's first tries that had been overly strong and sweet. Barely eight, she had been so proud of her achievement that neither his mother nor him had uttered anything but compliments. That day had been full of Selena's bright laughter.

Istoria took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “You have a skilled hand for brewing tea, Tethys of Clan Najad.”

“Thank you,  _ Sinehär _ Patientia. My  _ maneth _ taught me; her teas were said to be the best,” demurred Tethys, her own cup between her hands and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The short exchange startled Nyx out of his childhood reverie. Silently reprimanding himself for his lapse in attention, he forced the image of a smiling and laughing Selena from his mind. The painful stab of regret he felt in his heart every time he thought of her, had never gotten easier to bear over the years.

“For which occasion do you honour my family with your visit,  _ sinehär _ ?” asked the younger woman.

“To my regret it's not a member of your family I came to meet,” Istoria said. Her eyes were firmly set on Nyx who dearly wished he could vanish into the ground at that very moment. “A  _ cünaniu _ has been called for this afternoon and  _ Oirkar _ Ulric has been invited to speak among us.”

Her body language, the set of her jaw and the tone of her voice made it clear what kind of invitation it was. Should he not show up at the gathering he would lose what standing he had within the  _ Galahkari _ of Insomnia. Loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have his standing as the head of an old and respected clan, much of the shit he did get himself into wouldn't end as well as it normally did.

Beneath the sharp eyes of both women in the room, Istoria's giving nothing away and Tethys' silently promising to get an explanation out of him, he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I will be there, to speak and to listen,” he said.

“Good,” nodded the old woman. “Now, I don't care how you do it, but get those reporters out of Little Galahd as fast as you can. They're more of a nuisance than evergrow weed.”

“Of course,  _ sinehär _ ,” muttered Nyx, internally wincing. He'd had to turn off his phone after the ninth call from one reporter or other. He knew it wouldn't help any in the long run, but for now he could actually talk to someone without being interrupted every five minutes. Maybe he should invest into a new number. Though he had no idea how to do what the Elder had asked of him.

“The  _ cünaniu _ will be held by the community fire at exactly 4pm. I trust you know the etiquette of an invited speaker?”

Nyx nodded again. All Clan Heads had to know; they were most likely the ones to be invited, if someone was. Speak clearly and only when prompted. Any other time an invited speaker wanted to say something they had to take a step forward and wait until they were acknowledged. The surrounding crowd, if there was one, wasn't to be addressed ever. Since this was a formal event the proper titles had to be observed.

They drank the rest of their tea largely in silence, only interrupted by the spare bits of small talk Tethys and Istoria engaged in.

This was not going to be any kind of fun. At all.

Now he crept over the flat roof of an apartment complex in the middle of Little Galahd not too far from the courtyard the  _ Galahkari _ had chosen as their speaking grounds, with little time remaining and on the run from those damned reporters.

Carefully, he crept over the roof between damp bed sheets that had been hung out to dry. They made his way into a labyrinth that his him quite well and made him feel marginally safer. It was childish, but he couldn't quite help it. He still didn't dare to stand up properly.

If he ever found out who had blabbed, he was getting Luche to do a blood eagle for him. And damn the consequences. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it must have been the lab technician who talked. He doubted that either King Regis, Shield Amicitia or General Leonis would sabotage the situation like that. Nyx had known from the start that it was a bad idea to consent to a private audience.

At the reminder of that private office and that awful portrait he snarled at the bed sheets drying in the warm air and spit out in an impulsive show of disdain. Ozone burned in his nose and when his fingers brushed one of the sheets the spot started to sizzle.

He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. No, now was not the time to be upset about a portrait depicting the Conqueror King, as justified as it may be. It was just a portrait for  _ ahtrihn _ sake. The man himself was long dead. It was a cold comfort.

He reached the other end of the roof and glanced down at the street five storeys below him. Not a reporter in sight. Just a few  _ Galahkari _ making their way to and fro, easily recognizable by the patterns of their clothes.

_ Thank Enías for making me lose them. _

It would have been so embarrassing, if those reporters had managed to follow him all the way here. Nyx had probably lost them somewhere around the the narrow streets around the marketplace, where they had made such a ruckus that some pedestrians had looked close to causing bodily harm. Well, most Lucians had a talent for that, so it wasn't anything new. The point was he had finally lost them.

Furrowing his brow in consideration he glanced down at the street again. It wasn't far towards the court yard where the community fire was, now. Should he risk it?

Scoffing at himself – he wasn't scared of a few reporters, damn it – he made his way down, jumping from windowsill to windowsill as if they were the branches of a tree made out of concrete.

Somebody yelped in surprise and Nyx winked at a woman standing by the windowsill he was using as a temporary perch, a wide and playful grin on his face. He jumped the last two storeys down followed by a slew of obscene curses. People turned around to see what was going on, but as soon as they recognized him they nodded in greeting and went back to their own business.

Heh, he still got it.

His grin transformed into a satisfied one as he flounced off towards the community fire.

The spark in his bones rumbled like a giant satisfied cat.

 

* * *

 

After running all over Little Galahd – technically it was just the market place and a few streets, but there wasn't anybody present to refute his claim, so there – he was nearly late. There were more people present in the courtyard than he had expected. Then again, considering the topic to be discussed it honestly wasn't too surprising.

Nyx saw quite a few friends and closer acquaintances in the mingling crown, but didn't have the time for more than a nod in greeting. Luche, Axis, Pelna, Crowe and Libertus were part of the training exercise the Glaive was scheduled to do today, Tredd and Sonitus were there, however, along with Pelna's eldest niece Ker. Here and there he could see other members of the Glaive that were on leave. Then there were Ariadne and Archyll so close to the fire barrel, it was nearly inappropriate.

Nyx made a face and acted as if he hadn't seen them, a longing tug in his gut. He tried to shake it off. Both of them had made it quite clear when he had joined the Kingsglaive that he wasn't welcome with them any longer.

Straight backed and head held high he stepped into the space the  _ sinehäri _ had left for him. Right between Istoria and Eriq. The old willowy man stared at him with icy eyes. His remaining hair was carefully braided into a neat braid full of colourful beads, that reached his chest.

Nyx crossed his wrists next to his left hip in greeting deference. He didn't say a word, as it wasn't his place to speak first. The five  _ sinehäri _ in the circle touched their chests, right over the heart, with the back of their hands in the acknowledgement.

All around them the crowd grew silent.

Istoria was the first to speak, as she was the oldest if the five.

“Welcome to the open fire. May the flames be witness to what is spoken and keep the knowledge until the ashes of the world are washed away.” She spoke the traditional greeting in the oldest tongue they remembered. Then she turned to him. “Be welcome as a guest in our midst, Nyx,  _ Oirkar _ of Clan Ulric, that you may speak and be heard.”

“May the flames be witness to my words and prove them to be true,” Nyx replied, the old words heavy on his tongue, his accent a heavy drawl.

It didn't happen all too often that one not an elder or a clan head involved in the governing of the  _ Galahkari _ was invited to speak in a  _ cünaniu _ .

“We have gathered here today,” Istoria continued in modern Hadnissa, “ to deliberate on the recent development concerning Nyx,  _ Oirkar _ of Clan Ulric and King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line.”

She used the Lucian word for 'king' since technically Hadnissa didn't have an equivalent word for the title. There were a few that came close, but like all titles in Galahd they had to be earned and the Lucian king most certainly hadn't done that.

“Now tell us in detail what led to the articles this morning and those Lucians crawling all over the place,” commanded Eriq more terse than necessary.

Istoria cast the man a stern glance. Nyx kept his face carefully neutral as all eyes trained on him.

He started his tale with what he could tell of his last mission without going against the King's orders. It was moments like these Nyx hated the careful balancing act he had to practice due to his debt to the man.

The  _ sinehäri _ kept their silence until his tale ended, even if Eriq and Elenia looked like they dearly wanted to interrupt him more than once. The only thing holding them back was the fact that one wasn't to interrupt a speaking party, if one didn't want to be excluded. After Nyx had finished his recounting, having made it as detailed as he could manage, the silence hung heavily between them for a few heartbeats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot let go to waste.”

All eyes turned towards Leonid. The man was the youngest member of the  _ cünaniu _ , having reached the appropriate age only three years ago. All other remaining members had been a part of it since before Galahd had fallen.

“What do you propose we do,  _ Sinehär _ Leonid of the Colophon?” asked Elenia, her voice cold and sharp.

The lower right side of her face looked like the skin had melted and formed into into a misshapen mass. The mark travelled down her throat in sprinkles and vanished under one of the colourful scarves she always wore. Sometimes her right arm twitched without her permission. Those were souvenirs the Nifs had left her with during the initial attack. Since then she was against anything to do with Lucis or Niflheim.

The youngest of the five Elders returned her gaze evenly. “I propose we play into their expectations. Lucis doesn't recognize a country or ethnic group without them having a clear leader to negotiate with. I think we will all agree when I say that's not something we have. We could make  _ Oirkar _ Ulric our representative, so to speak.”

“So he would be what? Our...  _ king _ ?” Eriq practically spat the Lucian word in front of his feet like it was a curse.

Nyx suppressed a flinch. His fingernails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. He swallowed down the words burning on his tongue and reminded himself not to speak. From where he stood he could see parts of the crowd. It was utterly silent for a crowd this big. He could make out worried faces, angry ones, neutral and confused ones. It was a pretty mixed bag. Ker had moved into the first row of the spectators and grinned at him when she saw him looking.

“I'm saying that, if we were recognized as an autonomous people, we would have rights. Family members of dead Kingsglaives wouldn't lose their homes, we would have the right to open our own schools to educate our children in our ways, just to name a few. Or traditions exist because they saved our lives, now it's time we add to them.”

Elenia stared at Leonid with distaste burning in her eyes. “I won't consent to changing our traditions because Lucis demands it!”

“Traditions have been altered or added to before. Lucians have been the catalyst of that for many times. As a people it is our most sacred duty to remember what others forget. It is a lapse in our duty that it took us so long to realize the true depths of Lucian ignorance.” Here Istoria nodded towards Nyx in reference to his tale about the private audience. “We cannot let ourselves be dragged down into the same pit of forgetfulness. For that we need to teach and to be able to teach, we need the Lucians cooperation while we reside in their city.”

“You want to teach Lucians?” Elenia's scandalized cry caused a wave of silent unrest within the crowd.

“No,” said Istoria decidedly.

Her hard tone took Nyx aback. Eriq snorted and muttered something under his breath Nyx couldn't quite make out.

“You know how difficult it has been to take the children on their First Hunts,  _ Sinehär _ Elenia of Clan Dala. It will only get even more so as time goes on. Something needs to happen,” intervened Demetri Arra. Until now the man had been silent, listening carefully. “ _ Oirkar _ Nyx of Clan Ulric, please tell us your opinion on why exactly the Lucians are convinced of you being of higher blood.”

Nyx didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. Hadn't he already done that at the beginning? Nonetheless he he opened his mouth without complaint and told them again.

“It's my ability as a mage,  _ sinehäri _ . The Lucians are convinced that independent magic is only possible within two family lines in this world. The Lucis Caelums of Lucis and the Fleurets of Tenebrae. Everybody else showing magic that hasn't been gifted by them, must therefore be either of their blood or a line of higher blood blessed by their Astrals.”

All five Elders around him made various faces of distaste. Elenia's looked like a mask made out of wax due to her scar.

“What do you think they expect from you,  _ Oirkar _ ?” asked Demetri before anybody else could say anything. It was probably better that way.

Nyx had to pause for a second. A sense of anticipation built in the air, he didn't want to ponder. He swallowed dryly and started slowly: “I... I think the King doesn't really know, himself. For him it appears to be mainly about family. Beyond that... This has gone into a direction that cannot be predicted in its entirety. If I had to guess, I would at least be a more specific target than a whole ethnic group.”

“I think we should work with that,” reiterated Leonid into the thoughtful silence.

“I won't accept a  _ king _ !” bellowed Eriq again.

“We are talking in circles,” stated Istoria in a brisk voice that brooked no argument. “The  _ Oirkar _ has been put into Lucian focus. We cannot do anything about it - it has happened. What we can do, is use the situation to get what we want. Are we all in agreement about that?”

They all nodded, even if Eriq looked like he had swallowed old seaweed and Elenia like she would rather gut herself. Nyx looked at them, resigned about what he knew was the loss of his relative anonymity. He sighed soundlessly and stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged. In for the meat, in for the kill.

Istoria looked at him, her expression one of careful consideration. She nodded.

“What about the position of  _ makti-oir _ ?”

Demetri made a sound like he had been punched in the gut. Leonid looked vaguely smug and Istoria had a satisfied tilt to her head. It was like that was what she had wanted to happen all along, thought Nyx.

Damn that woman.

The eyes of Elenia looked like they would fall out of her head and Eriq opened his mouth to say something – not polite, no doubt – before shutting it again with a clicking noise. A thoughtful expression made its way onto his face.

“ _ Sinehär gisdrauht _ , how many members of Clan Ulric have held that position?” he asked, tugging at his beaded braid. His eyes never left Nyx who was silently cursing himself for suggesting this.

The eldest in this circle smiled. “The first was Nikon of Clan Ulric, daughter of Adrastea of Clan Ulric. She became  _ makti-oir _ in the conflict that drove off the poachers. After her was  _ Oirkar _ Perses of Clan Ulric, who became  _ makti-oir _ the day the black sails first clouded the sky. He was the first of three to hold the position during the War of the Black Ships.”

Nyx unwittingly stood a little bit straighter as the woman listed name after name. He could feel hundreds of eyes resting on him. Those were members of his clan. His. For the first time in a long while he could truly appreciate it. His clan. His history. All those stories that had been carefully preserved and told again and again.

Elenia's gaze was still full of that raging fury he had never seen her without, but now there was also a quiet respect. Hers was not the only one.

Demetri nodded thoughtfully after Istoria had ended her impromptu narration. “Does  _ Oirkar _ Nyx of Clan Ulric fulfil the requirements?”

Nyx dearly wanted to say no, but he knew that wasn't an option he had left. His people had left. If this was his chance to make things right, to atone for his failures, then he would gladly dedicate his life and his death to it. His people deserved nothing less. Selena and his mother would have deserved nothing less. All the people he had failed.

It was Istoria who spoke again: “On his First Hunt Nyx, then of no name, was blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, Lady of Beasts, the Great Coeurl herself, and now he strides in her shadow. He fed four Clans during the last winter before the war came and led twelve hunting parties through it once it was there, the second to last group to leave Galahd was the one he helped protect and since coming here he has fought to regain our homes, never leaving anyone behind, living or dead.”

The subject of such praise could barely bring himself to listen. This wasn't something he wanted to hear. It wasn't him. Where were his failures? All the people he hadn't been able to save? Those that had starved during that horrible long winter, those the Nifs had killed while he had been  _ right there _ and not being able to do anything. And so many more. Those that had drowned because they had fallen off the boats during their escape, those the daemons had gotten on their miserable track across the mainland. The hunger and the sickness. All the comrades he had lost while fighting for a nation that didn't want to appreciate their sacrifices.

Nyx blinked as he noticed that the old woman had stopped talking. What had he missed.  _ Kohna _ , why had he spaced out?

Eriq huffed in irritation. “Do you accept the position as  _ makti-oir _ ?”

Steeling himself, Nyx gazed into the crowd. A tension covered the whole courtyard like a smothering blanket. The air was stifling and hot. Hadn't there been less people when he had last looked? He couldn't say for certain.

He tried to read their faces. Would these people accept him in this position? Would his fellow hunters follow him and trust in his decisions? A heaviness settled around him he wasn't sure he could bear. His eyes caught Tredd's. The redhead stood near the edge next to Sonitus, his face an unreadable mask. For barely a heartbeat they stared at each other and then an expression flitted across Tredd's face. It was gone so fast that Nyx couldn't say what it had been, but the other man raised his chin, having come to a decision, and nodded.

Nyx turned his attention back towards the five  _ sinehäri _ who were waiting for his decision with varying expressions of patience.

“I accept,” he said loud and clear.

Within seconds the tension in the air evaporated. The crowd surged, waiting for the  _ cünaniu _ to end so that they could celebrate. They had come one step closer towards leaving this city and going home. Everybody knew hit.

But it wasn't over.

“What shall we do about the Lucians?” asked Leonid, looking pleased and exhausted. “I have said it before, we need someone to press for our interests. With  _ Oirkar _ Nyx of Clan Ulric we have somebody who can do it.”

Elenia looked ready to murder the man. “We will not collaborate with the Lucians! Not after everything they did.”

“We won't collaborate with the Lucians,” Leonid shot back. “Think of it as taking what we're due.”

Elenia huffed but didn't say anything else. Nyx was thankful for it. He had honestly enough of old people arguing. Not that he would ever say that out loud; he didn't want to die that badly.

Demetri sighed tiredly. Even now at age 84 he was nearly a head taller then Nyx. With that and the tattoos and scars he had collected over his life, he cut an formidable figure. He spoke little outside of his duties, but his voice was like a booming bass, loud and imposing. “The Lucians should come to us first, if we do this. We must be prepared for it, but we cannot be the ones to ask for an audience with the Lucian King. It would press us into a weaker position than we already have.”

No one seemed overly happy at his last words. But they were true and everybody in the courtyard knew it.

“Are we all in agreement of this?” asked Istoria looking at her peers.

One after the other nodded. Her gaze settled on Nyx who realized that now that he was  _ makti-oir _ , his voice had true weight within this circle. He nodded also.

“Then we will leave it here.” She raised her voice so that it echoed loud and clear over the heads of the listening crowd. “Let it be known that after Oizys of Clan Pontos who fell as Niflheim covered our land in death and flames, we name  _ Oirkar _ Nyx of Clan Ulric as  _ makti-oir _ . He has been found capable of this responsibility and has accepted it with the fire bearing witness to his words.

We will enter negotiations with the Lucian crown to fight for our tradition and way of life, as we should have done from the beginning. Let this be a lesson for us to not place our pride over our needs. The Astrals couldn't make us bend. A human king won't manage what the false Gods couldn't do. We won't let him.

May the fires bear witness to our words, to what has been said and done today. In the name of the Wooden Throne that seats only Galahd itself, I close this  _ cünaniu _ .”

For one eternal second the words seemed to fill every space in the courtyard and beyond. The wandering shadows deepened and a cool breeze that carried the sound of rustling leaves and the crashing of the sea against Galahdian shores. A shiver of anticipation travelled down Nyx' spine.

Something was coming.

The fire cracked and sparks flew high, dancing in the air and brining the smell of home. It sounded like the distant roar of a coeurl.

“The hunts are on!”

The cry thundered through the air and broke the spell. The crowd roared, the sound deafening.

Nyx didn't move, too busy trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Then Ker was there, a huge grin on her face. The girl was barely old enough to remember what her home had been like. She hugged him. The force of it pressed the air out of his lungs and teased an airy laugh out of him.

Her face pressed into his shoulder and her body started to shake. She was crying. Worried, he slung his arms around her muscular form and asked: “What's wrong,  _ buhgil _ ?”

Ker shook her head, hiccuped and looked up at him. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks and a dusty red. She was still smiling, positively brimming with happiness. Nyx barely understood her over the roar of the celebrating crowd.

“Thank you, Nyx. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams hands down*  
> The headache is over! Hah!  
> If you're still reading this story after this chapter you have my most sincere thanks. This felt like handling a sledgehammer while trying to craft a statue. Thank you, thank you, thank you LightsaberWieldingDalek for helping me with the politics. Without you this would have taken thrice as long.  
> Is it just me or is the list of Hadnissan words getting longer? Please tell me if it's bothering you. I will try to tone it down, if it does.  
> Anyway: thoughts, ideas, opinions? Have no fear, I don't bite. Well, mostly ;)  
> This chapter has a ton of worldbuilding going on and that was really fun. It just may be disproportionately much... oh well.  
> Right, another thing:  
> Enías is one of the Fathers of the Hunt. He's the tracker and the leader of the group. The Fathers of the Hunt are a group of spirits the Galahkari worship instead of the Astrals. There are many more. If they come up, I will explain them of course.  
> Thank you for reading!


	8. An Apartment is no Clan House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more fishy things are coming to light.
> 
> Featuring:  
> the wonders of bureaucracy, snark, Nyx the reckless idiot, Luche's sense of humour and Drautos' ugly past rearing its head
> 
> Warnings:  
> smoking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of Words:
> 
> Galahkar = person of Galahd  
> sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller  
> makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter  
> mahir = mother  
> ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
> cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number

The apartment was a battlefield of loose papers, open folders, half empty plates and cups of tea. Nyx sat on the floor in the middle of it all and inhaled his tea at an astonishing rate. Blue eyes stared sightlessly at the folder in his lap, a pen dangling between his fingers and an open notebook next to him. The paper was stained with brownish rings where he had put his cup down and some of the tea had spilt over.

It was currently shortly after lunchtime and already Nyx felt tired enough to sleep for the rest of the day. He snorted into his cup and focused back onto the profile page of Axis Arra. There was nothing on it Nyx didn't already know or couldn't ask the man directly, but he had figured talking to every single Glaive would take up too much time, so he had asked Luche to get him the basic information of every Glaive currently active. As the Captain's adjunct it would be easier for him than anybody else.

The blond man had looked like he had been ordered to bath in behemoth shit, but only two hours after Nyx had asked, Luche had come back, his expression just as sour, with a stack of heavy folders in his arms. No one had any idea how he had managed to do this so fast, and no one dared to ask. The Lazarus Clan was scarily effective like that.

Axis' profile didn't contain things like medical history, his place of residence or if he had any dependants, but his preferred weapon – a crossbow – allied Clans – Bellum, Lazarus, Dala and Altius – Clans the Arras feuded with – Aliquantus – and his hunting patron – Artemis – among other things. It was not the first time any of this information had been written down, but it was the first time it was all in one place and so comprehensive.

Nyx glanced at the stack of heavy folders balancing next to him and wondered what to do with them all once he had finished his task of restructuring the units within the Kingsglaive into proper hunting groups.

This would be so much easier, if he didn't have to do this within the confines of the already existing structure. Nyx' gaze wandered from the folders towards his own notes that were a mess of names, arrows and question-marks. Captain Drautos had once said he had done what he could within the parameters given, but now that he was actively looking, Nyx could tell just after a few hours that something was off.

Why would he put a Najad within the same Unit as a Pontos when it was known by everybody that those two would sooner murder each other than work together? He could understand placing them within the same Troop since those had been decided upon order of admission and not necessarily skill-set, but the same Unit? That was just asking for a disaster to happen.

A loud curse interrupted his train of thought. Nyx gaze shifted towards Pelna who was sitting at his tiny dining table, typing away at his laptop. He fished out what looked like a list from somewhere within the chaos on the table and crossed something out.

“What's wrong?” asked Nyx and tried to loosen the tense muscles in his neck.

Pelna looked at him, the skin around his eyes tight and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I've been looking into the current suppliers of the Glaive, like you asked me to. It's a right mess,” he said with a grimace and held up the paper. “I used the Moogle Network to cross-check the list Luche managed to get. There's one company – it's called WEAPON – that supposedly specializes in magic conductive weaponry and something about it is strange.”

“It must be more than strange for you to look like that,” commented Nyx.

His spine cracked uncomfortably as he stood up. Carefully he picked his way towards the table around a census of every _Galahkar_ living in Insomnia, to-do lists and a colourful explosion of post-it notes. Pelna gave a rueful grin.

“WEAPON isn't the only weapons company on the list, but it's the one most of the Glaive's budget goes to, which is strange because they don't supply us with nearly enough weapons to warrant that amount.”

The laptop screen showed a chart full of numbers Nyx couldn't make heads nor tails off. They seemed to be sums of money ordered by company and what they provided. It was scarily detailed.

“And Luche gave you this list?”

Pelna shook his head. “Not exactly that one. He was able to give me a list of what exactly each company provided and how much they were paid in general, but no specifics. He said he couldn't get more because the secretary of the acquisition office came back from her coffee break before he could find the files. I've been looking up each company, looking for prizes and adding them up with the stuff we have in inventory. And before you ask: I got that information from Hephaistos. He still owed me one.”

Hephaistos Gohlann had lost a leg to an MT with a flamethrower during combat. Now he worked a desk-job in the Glaive that Drautos had gotten him as a favour. Mostly the man now managed their logistics.

Nyx hummed thoughtfully. That sounded like a heck of a lot of tedious busy work. “How big is the Kingsglaive's budget anyway?” He was a bit embarrassed that he hadn't thought to look that information up sooner since it was kind of important to what he was doing. He just had never thought he would be in a position to need this information.

“That's the thing,” said Pelna with a frustrated shrug. “I can't find the correct numbers anywhere. They should be easy to find and open to the public – well, mostly – but they aren't. I can find the Yen they put into every other Division but the Kingsglaive. The Captain always said we didn't have enough money, but I can't verify that and with that big chunk of our money that gets pumped into WEAPON...” He shrugged.

This was... concerning, and one more point on Nyx' ever growing list of things that needed to be done. He carded his hands through his hair and sighed. He needed a break.

“Can you work it out?” he asked.

Thoughtfully, Pelna chewed on his lower lip while his fingers drummed out a lively staccato on the edge of the table. “Depends. If I have enough time and Crowe can help me juggle the numbers, most likely. It might take a while though. What do you want to do with this information anyway?”

“That's fine. I'm not sure yet, but it seems prudent to know how much money you have and where it goes, don't you think?”

“That's basic household management,” replied Pelna impressively unimpressed, and held out his own empty tea cup. “Now be a dear and make some fresh tea, while I sacrifice my precious free time for you.”

Nyx huffed an amused laugh and took the cup without further comment. It would do him good to do something else with his hands for a bit anyway.

A comfortable silence fell between the two. A slight breeze came through the open door of the apartment and rustled the papers with a quiet whisper. Nyx had given up on closing it with how many people had come to see him already today. It was kind of ridiculous, if he thought about it. For members of Clans that were traditionally under Ulric protection, Nyx had always had an open door policy, but now it seemed to include every _Galahkar_ within the city.

First it had been _sinehär gisdrauht_ Istoria shortly after daybreak with the census, then Luche, much to Nyx' surprise, and then Pelna had shown up before he had to go to work. After that it had been one person after another, most of them Clan Heads wanting to affirm their loyalty towards the new _makti-oir_. It was done with very little ceremony, but now he had a growing pile of Clan beads carefully tucked away in his bedside table and no clue what to do with them.

That was something that they didn't have to do, but was generally expected anyway, so Nyx had put up with it. After a while he just hadn't bothered anymore to close his door. Why do it when he had to open it five minutes later again anyway?

He was rooting around his cupboards for one of his tea mixes with a bit more of a kick behind it, when Libertus came in.

“Hey, guys. You still have something to eat? I'm starving. Where do you want me to put these?”

Nyx looked up and stared at the files in his best friend's arms in horror and disbelieve. “Where did you get those from? I can't see my own apartment floor under all this paper, and you bring even more?”

Like the asshole he was, Libertus just shrugged and dumped the files in Nyx' armchair, before he sniffed at a sandwich lying on a plate next to it. Nyx shared an exasperated glance with Crowe who had come in behind him. Pelna glanced up for all of one second before he went back to his work, used to ignoring the antics of the three around him with years of practice.

“This looks like you lost a war,” commented Crowe with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, you're free to help,” grouched Nyx and pulled out a box of tea leaves with a triumphant “aha!”.

Crowe stepped into the apartment, careful to not disturb the chaos on the floor, and took the tea box out of Nyx' hand.

“Hey!” he exclaimed and made a grab for it.

Crowe held it out of his reach and turned her upper body away. She made a shooing motion towards the door with her free hand. “You step out and take a break, Nyx. If you don't get your allotted amount of fresh air, you'll crawl up the walls and drive us all crazy in the process.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Nyx and made a face.

He would never say it out loud, but it was true. Being cooped up for too long made him twitchy and grumpy, the open door not helping in the slightest. So he stepped outside without complaint and went up to the flat roof of the apartment complex. The air wasn't necessarily fresh, it smelled of exhaust fumes and home cooked meals, but there was a nice breeze caressing his face.

The last few days had been such a whirlwind of activity that he hadn't had the time to really process all of it, and now that he was alone with his thoughts, it all came back in a staggering force. Clenching his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, he stared up to the underside of the bridge stretching over his head.

He still felt like he didn't deserve those powers. There were so many other people who could do so much more with them, Crowe most of all. But he didn't regret having them, he realized as he watched a spark playfully dance over his knuckles. With this power he could keep old wrongs from repeating themselves. This time he would protect those most important to him and everybody else.

 _Maybe I should train a bit more first_ , he thought as the playful spark turned into a tiny bolt of lighting that fizzled out a metre over his head as he lost control over it. _That could have hit somebody._

He could most likely convince Crowe again to spot for him, her ability to just understand magic was priceless. He should probably ask Axis, too. The man wasn't part of a mage unit, but he specialized in augmenting his close combat with magic.

Maybe he should also invest in some blades that could channel magic and lightning better than the two sets he had now. And the best weapon smiths he could think of were... Ariadne and Archyll. Nyx mouth twisted into a bitter grin. Of course it had to be those two. They were distant relatives of his from his _mahir's_ side, twins, that had made it quite clear they didn't want to talk to him again after he had joined the Kingsglaive. That argument was something some people still talked about on occasion. But maybe if he came to them in a professional capacity – as Head of the Ulric Clan and not a relative – he could talk to them?

It was strange, before any of this had happened they had never talked to each other much when they had come from the next settlement over to visit his mother, and even in the short time between her and Selena's death and him joining the Glaive, they hadn't talked much. Too much had been going on back then. But now he missed them dearly. There was family right there, and he couldn't talk to them because they didn't want him to. The weight of that rested heavily in his chest.

“Ah, there you are, Nyx. Libertus said that Crowe practically threw you out of your own apartment.”

Nyx whirled around, a growl rumbling in his throat that morphed into a pleasant purr and a grin as he saw Luche standing near the stairs. He cursed himself for being so inattentive. Luche stepped up next to him; the air around him still carried a touch of caution.

“That's about right,” Nyx muttered and wondered if he would growl and hiss at everything and everybody who startled him. That would be inconvenient.

For a moment they both stood there, side by side, leaning against the railing and watching the people below. It was a hive of activity. There was a liveliness there, that had been lacking only the day before. It was good.

He groaned as his thoughts drifted towards the Lucians. What by _ahtrii_ was he supposed to do?

“You need to present them with some concrete demands and a position you'll not budge from, come scourge or raging fire,” said Luche, a cynical twist to his mouth.

Had Nyx said that out loud?

“I want...”, Nyx stopped to think about it. What did he want? “What I want is for every _Galahkar_ to have a better life here, for us to not have to worry that they'll take our children away because we 'can't give them the appropriate care'. I want for us to be able to walk through these streets without shame, debt or guilt. I want our homes back, to hunt in the jungle and swim in the sea. I want to hit Aldercapt in the face and eat his heart.” _I want my mother and sister back._

Next to him Luche snorted.

“What?”

“I don't know about eating Aldercapt's heart. It must be very much spoiled now, if it was ever edible at all.”

“You're probably right,” conceded Nyx with a grin on his face. “I still want to rip it out of his chest and bury it in never melting snow.”

“Every _Galahkar_ still living, will jump at the chance to help you with that.” Luche shifted his weight until his hip rested against the rail, facing Nyx. “You might be able to make everything else possible. How far along are you with reorganizing the hunting groups?”

“Maybe a third of the way through?” Nyx shrugged. “It's a mess and I keep to need to start over. The Captain said he formed the best units he could under the constraints given, but...”

“There's something off”, finished Luche for him.

“Yes! Everybody knows you don't put a Najad and a Pontos in the same hunting group. That group has the highest rotation count because those two keep trying to kill each other, and we can do nothing about it”, Nyx growled, eyes flashing.

Luche's gaze was guarded and calculating. He was clearly pondering something that had bothered him for some time now. The other Glaive had become strangely distant over the last few months. Nyx would admit that some part of him had worried.

“You should restructure the whole thing from the ground up, no matter what the Captain, the General or any other higher-ups say”, Luche said at last, making Nyx do a double take in surprise.

“That's... wow. Just wow. You think I should do this regardless of the consequences? The one who always goes on about rules and regulations and heeding the chain of command. Are you sure?”

“You're _makti-oir_ , it's your given right to do this. It's your _duty_ to do this. And regardless of what some people might be whispering behind my back, I'm of the Lazarus' and my Clan is as much of Galahd as any other.” Luche's face might as well have been carved from stone as he said this.

Nyx couldn't hide his wince. He had heard those whispers himself and he hated them. The Lazaruses were traditionally jewellers and also a Watcher Clan, a duty they shared with the Drautos Clan with the distinction that the Lazaruses lived partly in Tenebrae and the Drautoses in Lucis. That made them a little different from the other Clans and created spiteful whispers more often than not.

“Will you help me?” he found himself asking.

Luche twitched in surprise. He obviously hadn't been expecting that. “You want me to help? Why?”

“You know the rules”, Nyx shrugged. “Ours and those of the Lucians. You've got practice and experience with coordinating people and making them do what needs to be done. You know how to talk to the Lucians.”

“I know what you're trying to do, Nyx. You're not very subtle”, Luche said with raised eyebrows.

“Is it working?” Nyx wore a cheeky grin.

With a sigh, Luche shook his head. “Damn it, yes it is. Just because I know how I need to phrase things around Lucians so that they don't think me an 'uncultured barbarian', doesn't mean that they're _listening_ to me. I can be your people wrangler, but The King and his ilk are your problem.”

 _Kohna._ A man could hope.

“Thank you, Luche.”

“Hn, you're welcome.”

A companionable silence settled between them. Nyx was relieved. He had known that he wouldn't have to do this all by himself, but now he _knew_. Luche could help him wrangle the Lucians, while Libertus helped him wrangle the Clans, Pelna dug through the Glaive and Crowe helped him figure out the accounting. For the first time he felt like he could actually do this without failing horribly.

Luche searched through the pockets of his threadbare jeans – those looked very uncharacteristic on the normally very correct man – and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Nyx shook his head when he got offered the packet, and with a shrug Luche put one between his lips. Nyx stood upwind of Luche but still he grimaced as the smell of burning tobacco reached his nose.

The blond man took a deep drag of the cigarette and blew out the smoke with a quiet sigh. “It's nice and all that we came to an understanding, but that's not why I was looking for you in the first place. Captain Drautos sent me since you seem to have fried your phone.”

“It was an accident.”

Luche's stare told Nyx what the other man thought of that. It really had been! Kind of. Anyway. Nyx threw the man next to him a petulant look.

“Great, and now I'll be late to whatever the Captain wants from me. Thanks a lot, you idiot. For the record: If he asks, I'm blaming you.”

Luche gave an undignified snort and waved his free hand as if to say _like I care_. And he cared, more than he should, Nyx knew. Instead of commenting however, he jumped on the railing with all the grace of a lazy cat and grinned.

“Shouldn't you change into something more appropriate before you go?” asked Luche, his lips twitching in amusement.

Nyx' grin grew wide enough to show the barest hint of teeth. “Then he shouldn't have asked for me during my sick leave”, he said and jumped off the railing.

Even from his position two storeys below on a windowsill, he could hear Luche's barked laugh. Who knew the man had a sense of humour.

 

* * *

 

Drautos stared at him like a man who knew he should have seen this happening from kilometres away. Nyx stood there, utterly unrepentant in an old pair of comfy leather trousers and a loose tunic with colourful patterns showing never ending knots. His bare feet flexed against the ground. He probably should have fetched his shoes before going. Too late now.

“Care to tell me what's going on?” barked Drautos, obviously not happy.

“I'm on sick-leave, Sir.”

The Captain glared. “Cut the crap, Ulric. What went down yesterday?”

Nyx blinked in surprise. “A _cünaniu_ was called and I was invited to speak,” he said slowly and carefully, nearly like he was speaking to a young child. Why were they talking in Lucian again?

“A _cünaniu_ ”, he repeated flatly. His mouth had an unpleasant twist to it.

“Yes, Sir.”

Drautos stared at him. Nyx stared right back. They were in a strange stalemate, trying to out-stubborn each other. Too bad for the Captain that no one was as stubborn as an Ulric.

“What was the topic?” he asked at last.

“My last mission and my meeting with King Regis. No one was comfortable with those articles and the press lurking around.”

“And are you...”

“No. Sir”, Nyx interrupted the Captain rather forcefully.

An empathetic nod was his answer. Drautos shifted his weight in his chair, a thoughtful frown on his face. Until now this meeting had gone better than Nyx had expected, but he knew this wouldn't last.

“Sir”, he spoke up after a moment of silence. Better to get this done with. “I was voted _makti-oir_.”

Drautos froze. It was like someone had slammed the curtains shut. Suddenly the Captain's whole being seemed to be an empty canvas, lacking any expression that could be a clue to his inner musings. It was in all honesty very disconcerting to watch, and set Nyx teeth on edge.

“And what”, Drautos said, his voice nothing more than a tightly controlled whisper, “do you plan to do now, _Oirkar_?”

Nyx very carefully suppressed the urge to hiss at the man in front of him, but he couldn't quite help the snarl tugging at his lips, his magic sparking in aggravation.

“We're going to overhaul the Kingsglaive. If it stays like it is now, it'll collapse in on itself sooner rather then later. We cannot let members of feuding Clans on the same units. You can clearly see with Rani Unit what a bad idea that is. No other has such a high death count because two people will rather try to murder each other than kill the enemy. Now we finally have the leverage to do something about it.”

The _with or without you_ was clearly heard.

“And you think you can just waltz into the Citadel and make the Lucian Nobility listen to you because you got voted in as a 'barbarian warlord'? Because that is what they will think, Ulric, and they will try to stop you every chance they get. Do not forget that to them, we are nothing more than worthless refugees, living in their great city at their mercy.”

There was a hurt there, old and festering. It was an ugly thing and Nyx had never seen it in the Captain before. It completely took him aback. Not for the first time Nyx wondered what had happened to Drautos on his way from Galahd to here, but as always no answers were forthcoming.

“They will listen, if they want to keep us all here”, he snarled. When he realized which words had left his mouth, he shut it with a _click_ , just as surprised as Drautos was.

“You would make every _Galahkar_ still living, leave the safest place on Eos, because of – what? A temper tantrum because things are not going the way you want them to?”

Nyx' teeth ground painfully together, he was clenching his jaw so tightly. Drautos sighed.

“Be that as it may. I know I cannot stop you. Just know that I warned you.”

Nyx forced his jaw to unclench. The muscles protested rather painfully. “Of course, Sir.”

“Good. Now go, Ulric, and don't let me see you again until the next mission briefing.”

He nodded and stalked out of the room, his field of vision warping in a way he was starting to get increasingly familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers!
> 
> Drautos finally makes an appearance and he's not happy. People are starting to figure things out, you should probably be starting to worry, my friend. It's going to take a bit longer, though, until Nyx & co are really onto him. I may not be the best at writing fight scenes, but I cannot wait for this one. *happily ruffles through notes*  
> And yes, Luche smokes. That one kinda snuck up on me. But it kinda fits him? Anyway, fore reasons I cannot name I'm starting to like this guy.
> 
> I hope you had fun with this one.  
> Until next chapter! :D


	9. A Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a battle happens and General Glauca appears.
> 
> Featuring:  
> the absence of Captain Drautos, confusing military stuff the author made up on the fly, Nyx' usual planlessnes, Crowe ex machina, lightning and awkward dialogue.
> 
> Warnings:  
> blood, injuries, death (this is a battle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in Hadnissa:
> 
> makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter  
> Galahkari = people of Galahd  
> Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas = Eos' light be on you; a formal greeting  
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
> ohtahi triantafe = a type of rose native to Galahd with black petals, it's highly poisonous and even the smell can cause hallucinations  
> thuir = father  
> makuwid = hunting group, squad mates  
> zehstir = foreigner, enemy; very strong insult  
> namakar = huntress; lit.: she-hunter

The attack couldn't have happened at a more unfortunate time. Nyx had been back from his two week medical leave for a few days now and had been in the middle of planning the second set of training exercises for the newly structured Kingsglaive with Libertus and Luche.

It was still a right mess. The members of the Kingsglaive took to the change with an enthusiasm tinged with relief that had surprised Nyx. The troops he had interacted with regularly had been mostly stable, with the most extreme exception being Troop Rani.

Captain Drautos wasn't happy about any of this. He had stood at the edge of the training field at the first day of training, with a dark scowl on his face and hadn't said a word as everybody made their best attempt at working together within their new groupings. When the first exercises had resulted in people screaming at each other, Nyx had thought he had seen a gleam of grim satisfaction in the Captain's eyes. But that couldn't have been correct. Right?

In the end, it had taken Libertus yelling at them to behave like professional hunters, to calm everybody down. His best friend and hunting-brother may have a temper and grouch about things he didn't like in above average volume more often than not, it took quite a bit, however, to actually get him to yell on the top of his lungs – and what powerful lungs they were. Everybody knew that.

At the end of the day, those training exercises could have gone worse and no one had been permanently maimed or killed. That could definitely be considered a victory in some cases. Nyx could understand the hiccups, he really could. All members of the Glaive had found ways to work around the problems of each Unit and Troop over the years. Even Troop Rani with its two feuding members. And now they had to get used to new people hunting at their sides.

It was Pelna who burst through the door of the tiny office Nyx had commandeered, since he, to his utter consternation, actually needed one now, his face a grim mask that grabbed the attention of all in attendance at once.

“Border Patrol just sent the message: Niflheim is on the move again. They say Glauca was sighted with them. The King wants us out there as soon as possible.”

For half a second no one said anything. Nyx jumped up from where he had sat down not a minute ago, nearly knocked a pile of papers off the desk and cursed. Libertus' face looked caught halfway between a snarl and an expression as if he had just smelled something unpleasant, while Luche's face could have been made out of stone.

Nyx took a deep breath, suddenly deathly calm. The smell of ozone started to creep through the air. “Luche, get the others moving and call as many as you can out of their vacation. With Glauca there we need every hunter we can get. Pelna, make sure everybody gets what they need from the inventory and I don't care if some idiot says 'Crownsguard only'. Take it, I'll deal with it once we're back again. Libertus, round up the trucks and tell those damned drivers to be there on time or we'll drive ourselves. We can't let that son of a she-devil any further into Lucis. Also tell Sonitus to get in touch with the Border Patrol, I want to know exactly where the Niffs are. You all have an hour. I'll-”

“You'll get ready and calm down your magic, Nyx. If you fry the truck you're in because you can't control yourself, or worse, blow it up, you won't be getting anywhere,” stated Libertus rather forcefully.

For a moment they stared at each other, both willing the other to back down with their gazes alone. But his hunting-brother was right. He himself may be rather calm, but his magic was a torrent beneath his skin.

“All right,” he conceded. “All right.”

Libertus looked at him a moment longer to make sure he actually meant it, before he nodded and stormed out of the room after the others that had already left the moment they had received their orders.

An hour wasn't a lot of time to prepare, and they hadn't done any exercises for it – Nyx put them on his ever growing to-do list – but they really needed to hurry.

He stayed in the office a few minutes longer, minutes that felt like an eternity, until the _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ raging beneath his skin was reduced to a distant echo thrumming in his mind. But instead of going towards the locker room to get ready, he left the tiny room to get to the Captain's office.

Nyx had tried to stay out of the older man's hair for the last few days as much as possible. But now,  _makti-oir_ or not, the Kingsglaive needed their Captain. 

In the hallways it was like somebody had poked a beehive. People were everywhere, trying to do whatever they were doing as fast as possible without actually running in the halls. A crowd was assembling around the Glaive's armoury, voices clamouring over each other in a bit to get what they wanted, and fast. Through a gab Nyx could see Tredd trying to keep order with a grim face, and continued on his way. People should know better than to question Tredd within the armoury. The Furias may be traditionally artisans, but if Tredd understood one thing best, it was weapons. 

“Captain?” Nyx half asked, half yelled as he knocked on the man's door.

No answer came.

Nyx frowned. Should he open the door anyway? He could feel the gazes of the passing Glaives in his back and decided he could deal with the consequences, should the Captain be in his office. Settling his shoulders and chin in a stubbornly determined expression, he opened to door with one last unanswered knock. 

“Captain, I'm coming in.”

The office was empty.

Nyx closed the door behind him to keep curious gazes out and started to search the room for a clue to where Captain Drautos could be. There were no new messages or notes pinned to the walls, no file on the desk that could tell him anything, and he didn't quite dare to actually rummage through the cabinets or the desk. 

With a displeased frown Nyx gaze wandered one last time around the relatively spacious room before he whirled around and left. He had better things to do right now than to look for the Captain.

 

* * *

 

There was a crowd forming outside the headquarters. People stopped and gawked as the Glaive assembled outside in their new groups, while non-fighting members loaded the trucks with field packs, half of which Pelna had managed to wrestle from the Crownsguard's clutches somehow. 

Nyx ignored the Insomnians as best as he could and tried to decide how to divide the Troops into Companies. He hadn't had the time to really do that until now, which was coming back to bite him into the ass. He hissed like a disgruntled cat, displeased with himself and those damned onlookers. They had ten minutes left before wheels up and still more Glaives arrived, those having been called in from their vacation.

All in all, Nyx estimated that there were around 200 Glaives assembled, which was less than he liked and more than he had expected. Their numbers had been dwindling steadily for years now. They needed new recruits, but that was a problem for another time. Nothing he could do about it now.

He looked for Libertus. His hunting-brother had the loudest voice he knew and could probably make himself be heard over the noise the easiest. The man stood at the edge of the plaza where the noise wasn't as prevalent and talked into a clunky military phone with a fierce scowl on his face. He hung up before Nyx could reach him.

He gave a lazy salute in greeting and hung the phone that could probably be used as a murder weapon, onto his belt. 

“Bad news: only half the usual drivers are there. The other half is 'indisposed' because the call was too short notice,” he sneered.

Nyx suppressed the urge to growl. “Then we won't ask for their services anymore,” he said. 

“I have nothing against that,” Libertus shrugged. “We could probably hire a few _Galahkari_ that could use the job, as soon as Crowe figures out our budget. But we need to somehow arrive at the battle before the Niffs stand in front of Insomnia.”

“We can do that,” agreed Nyx. It was a good idea. “Could you do me a favour, big guy?”

At once Libertus eyed him suspiciously. Nyx just rolled his eyes at his best friend's behaviour. He wasn't that bad.

“Hey, it's nothing bad. I just need you to help me with organizing the Troops and getting everybody into the trucks. Oh, and ask for volunteers to drive them.”

Libertus still looked sceptical but nodded and followed Nyx back in front of the crowd.

For a moment Libertus took in the group in front of him, all in the individualized uniforms of the Kingsglaive, and took a deep breath.

“Okay people, listen up!” he yelled so loudly Nyx was tempted to cover his left ear. “Into your Units and Troops! Don't fall asleep people! Troop leaders to the front!”

To Nyx' satisfaction, it didn't even take half a minute for the whole Kingsglaive to stand in front of him in orderly lines. There were eleven Troops in total, ranging from a total strength of ten to thirty-one people. 

The two Troops specializing in stealth and hit-and-run tactics would be grouped into one Company, three Troops could be grouped under heavy hitters and assault, he supposed, and a further two fell under demolition. The last four were a bit trickier. One specialized in ranged fighting, one in magic, another was the supply squad and the last could be called a rearguard, he supposed. In the end the mages were stuck with the ranged fighters. 

Under the curious eyes of the growing Insomnian crowd and camera flashes, they piled into the trucks as to Libertus' yelled instructions, and departed with only a ten minute delay. The streets were empty of any traffic as they made their way towards the wall and Nyx realized that somebody must have told the City Watch that they were coming through. He sent a quiet blessing to the person who had thought of doing so. Probably either Pelna or Sonitus.

Nyx had absolutely forgotten about it.

Their long convoy passed through the gate and over the huge bridge connecting Cavaugh with Leide without any interruption.

It was shortly after nightfall when they neared the latest known position of the Niflheimr army. They were very close to the Taelpar Crag now. Until now Niflheim had not managed to bridge it and take Duscae. They had gotten close more than once, though, and it showed in the many natural stone and crystalline arches spanning the Crag, that had been fortified or destroyed in the fighting. 

Secullam Pass was chosen as their base of operations. Within minutes near blinding floodlights were set up to keep the daemons away, a watch was set up and Unit Kresch, under Sonitus, was sent out to stake out the enemy.

Waiting for a battle to begin had always been the worst for Nyx. It made him restless with pent up energy and broody. It reminded him too much of his time with the resistance in Galahd.

To keep himself from crawling up the rocky walls surrounding their camp, he hunted down Pelna, the newly baked leader of the Gebo Unit. It was a part of the Ulnen Troop which was responsible for their supplies. Right now they were responsible for keeping their floodlights running and distributing the field packs.

“ _Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, makti-ori_ ,” greeted Pelna when he saw Nyx coming and crossed his wrists in a formal greeting.

Nyx stared at him and very pointedly rose a hand to his collar bone. Pelna actually rolled his eyes at that, but didn't comment on it. Instead he stepped up to his friend and said: “How can I help you, Nyx?”

“I know it's kind of late to ask, but how did you manage to convince the Crownsguard to part with their stuff? The last time the Captain tried, I heard it nearly ended with somebody dead.”

Pelna stared at Nyx with a raised eyebrow as if to say _and this is why you keep me from working?_ “It's pretty simple. I kept to the tried and true method of 'better ask for forgiveness than permission'. Don't look at me like that, I learned that from you, you know? Damn idiot that you are. I bribed Hephaistos into helping, and he was the distraction while I and some of my new Unit mates got the stuff out.”

It took Nyx a few seconds to actually understand what Pelna had just said, but when he did, he couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was a roaring full belly laugh that made more than one head turn, but Nyx didn't care. This was just too good. Pelna cast him a sour look.

“What's so funny?” asked Libertus as he marched towards them along with Crowe.

Nyx wheezed as he tried to get his laughter under control, only for it to start up again as he opened his mouth to explain.

“It would be so embarrassing, if you died of laughter and took us with you because you guided the Niffs towards our base,” stated Crowe in that typical deadpan of hers, when she found something hilarious but refused to laugh herself for whatever reason.

“I- I'm sorry,” Nyx gasped, fighting to keep the laughter down. He pressed a hand over his mouth. His eyes started to tear up with the effort it took.

“Our dearest First Hunter seems to find it hilarious how I got us the supplies we desperately need,” grumbled Pelna, and got a sage nod from Libertus and an amused huff from Crowe as an answer.

“Don't get me wrong, this is funny and all, but Luche is looking for you. He wants to go over the attack plan with the rest of the lead hunters. Which you should actually organize since it's your job, Nyx,” said Crowe.

“Alright, alright. I'm coming,” Nyx answered as soon as his breathing was steady enough and he didn't fear to burst into laughter again.

 

* * *

 

They attacked at daybreak. As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to ward the daemons away. As far as they had been able to tell this was the time the Niffs were most vulnerable since they couldn't depend on their growing mass of daemons. Until now, when it had come to open battle, the Captain had always insisted to wait for the Niffs to attack and defend from a stronger position.

Nyx had decided to do something different.

Units Kresch and Roh, who now belonged to the Tahrolin Troop, and were their stealth specialists, were to circle around the enemy force with a demolition Unit and attack the pens where they kept the beasts they used as an attack force. Hours ago, Luche had taken Roh Unit and had gone to join Sonitus to give him his orders. Simultaneously the heavy hitters would stage a full on frontal attack along with Senehrin Company to give them cover fire.

As soon as Luche's voice came over the comms, reporting that they were in position, Nyx gave the order to march over the wide stone arch spanning Tealpar Crag. Not far behind it, on the other side, was a wall the Niffs had hastily erected, and span their whole compound. It was barely more than a few slaps of concrete stacked onto each other.

A slight breeze ruffled Nyx' hair before the world grew still. Not even the distant calls of the birds could be heard. There was only the warmth of the early morning light, the sound of his own breathing and the feeling of _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ crackling close beneath his skin. A rumbling growl resonated through his chest as his field of vision widened and narrowed down at the same time. Only the wall and what lay behind it were important now. New colours joined the old and some grew muted as his eyes grew more sensitive to light. 

Then the crudely erected wall exploded as a combination of old Galahdian seal traps and Lucian fire spells crashed into it. 

Nyx stood close enough to feel the hot air lick across his skin. His lips twisted into a snarl that could have been a bloodthirsty smile, as the sound of screeching metal and yelling voices reached him over the roaring fire and falling rubble. 

All nervousness was gone as anticipation curled in his gut, and sparks of lightning travelled up and down his arms. 

As soon as the rubble had settled, Nyx bounded into the thick oily smoke churning in the air and blocking out the light. Formless shapes tumbled through the thick smoke, and all within the reach of his kukri fell in gurgling screams and burbling whimpers. 

The smell of burning metal and rubber, oil and blood clogged his nose, but still he found his way to the other side of the burning hell. Nyx jumped onto the nearest MA Veles and toppled it with a volley of lightning until nothing but a smoking husk of useless metal was left.

A roar echoed between that walls of this area in the base, as he wedged his blades free of the machine he had driven them into. It travelled over the twisted metal and MT and MA units attempting to form a defensive line. It made the air quiver and the hairs on his neck raise in anticipation. It took him a moment to realize that it was him who made that sound. A challenge and announcement of an assured victory at the same time. 

Nyx clamped his mouth shut behind his face guard and shook his head. He needed to keep a clear mind. A shot cracked through the air, missing Nyx, who was still crouching on top of the smoking MA Veles, by a hair. Only years of training suppressed his initial instinct to flinch. Instead he threw one kukri into he direction the shot had some from.

The world around him dissolved into a nauseating display of shards of Lucian magic and then he was on top of an MT. His chest slammed into its front and made him groan as the air was knocked out of him. Even through his clothes and armour he could feel the icy cold the MT emitted. The thing couldn't react fast enough and fell lifeless to the floor as Nyx rammed a blade into the masked forehead. 

He now stood on a metal catwalk spanning the Niflheimr compound overhead. His new vantage point let him see the Glaives who were now pouring through the opening that had been blown into the wall. A large part of the magitek had blown up along with it. Their fault for storing their shit along the outer wall. Nyx snorted and watched for a moment as the Glaive practically descended upon everything that was still able to move. 

Satisfied, he turned away and looked where still a series of explosions shook the air, along with the resounding roars and snarls of furious behemoths and sabertusks. He couldn't really see anything that was going on over the other walls between him and the other Units, but he trusted in their ability to get the job done. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement. It was a pair of MT, both of them snipers, aiming at the Glaives below. They hadn't seen him until now. Within seconds he was on them, tackling the first as he aimed a shot and drove a kukri into the knee of the second, who toppled over, off the catwalk and into the fray below. Snarling and eyes blazing, he slammed his now empty hand against the MT's face and sent lightning through it until its mask was nothing more than a warped mass of metal and its limbs stopped twitching uncontrollably.

Again he looked towards the closest inner wall which prevented them from getting further into the strangely improvised base. He had an idea. But as he reached up to activate the communication device, he ripped it off his ear with a foul curse as it fried with a painful  _pop-spark_ . 

_Shit. So much for that_ , he thought with a twist of his lips.  _I really should have practised more._

Nyx warped down towards the kukri still lodged into the now dead MT's leg and grabbed the nearest Glaive by the shoulder. It was Axis.

“I need you to relay some orders for me!” he yelled over the cacophony of screeching metal, gun shots, the dying roar of a furious behemoth and the sounds of discharging magic, as people cried and fought and died.

Thankfully Axis didn't bother to ask what had happened to his device and just raised his hand.

“Attention, all Glaives. I'm about to relay orders of the _makti-oir_ in his stead.”

“The most talented warpers are to gather near the wall leading further into the base. We need to get past the gate to prevent the Niffs from organizing a counter attack, so we'll warp over the wall and open it from the inside. Luche is to do the same on his end as soon as those damn behemoths are dead. Oresch Unit is to secure the breached wall as soon as we're finished here.”

Nyx took a deep breath. His magic was pressing against his mind, urging him to hunt, to kill and feast on his prey. Another breath. Not now. Pack came first. Their safety was paramount, and to keep them safe he needed to be able to think.

Dutifully, Axis repeated every word.

With a thankful nod Nyx turned away and made his way towards the targeted wall. It wasn't very high, five metres at most, which was below average for a Niff base, but like in all bases, this one had an opening which was blocked by a series of red lasers that could melt flesh from bones, if someone was stupid enough to touch it.

Axis followed him. The man may specialize in magic based close combat, but his warping skills were above average. Not far from him, Nyx could see Libertus decapitate a MT with a kukri that looked more like a traditional Ostium battle axe than anything else.

Three others met them by the wall. Nyx grinned. Five. Five people for this was a good omen. 

“Axis, you're to concentrate on shutting down those lasers, the rest of us will cover your ass. On my mark, we warp. Ready- go!”

In unison they threw their blades. Lucian magic burned like acid on Nyx' tongue as he appeared above the wall for a second before he warped down on the other side, the others following him in a protective formation around Axis in which Nyx was taking point. 

His feet barely touched the ground, before he was swarmed by MT. They were those guys with the heavy serrated swords. Nyx cursed and dove out of the way. A sword whizzed past where his head had been not a second ago. Nyx managed to kick the thing in the hip as he evaded another horizontal swing of the sword. The kick caused the upper body of the MT to rotate just enough that it buried its blade into the machine next to it, caving its breastplate in with a high pitched metallic shriek and a sickening crunch. 

Before his target could wedge its blade free, he severed the sword arm at the elbow and drove the other blade into its neck. His weight caused it to fall backwards and take another two MT with it. He made short work of them.

“I've got it!” cried Axis and with a hiss the lasers deactivated.

Suddenly the air was filled with the electric whirr of MA units activating. There were eight of them. Kohna. So they hadn't been fast enough. 

With a snarl Nyx hurled himself over the last two MT in front of him, twisting the right one's neck and clipping the other in the shoulder. He knew his blades couldn't do much against the MA units, so he sheathed one and used his now free hand to fry the nearest one with a powerful bolt of lightning. 

Not far from him Axis was doing something similar, attacking a machine's weak spots with calculated shots of lightning. They needed more mages here. Again Nyx cursed himself for frying his comm. He couldn't distract the other four with him now, so he had no other choice but to retreat. 

And nearly run into another Glaive right as he stepped through the gate. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he recognized Libertus. His facecloth had slipped off and revealed a bloody nose. 

“Libs! I need you to comm Lesan Unit! Our blades won't do anything against those MA units!” 

Without further ado, the man did just that. His voice was drowned out as something further into the base crumbled with a deafening blast. The ground shook.

It was only due to the fact that Nyx stood so close to the wall, that he didn't fall. Libertus didn't fare as well. He fell heavily onto his side and had to quickly roll away as a magitek spear buried itself into the ground where he had just lain. Nyx killed the thing with another blast of lightning. 

“Come on, big guy. No time for a nap,” he said as he helped his hunting-brother to stand back up. 

 

* * *

 

The battle continued in that vein, until they met Luche's Troop in the heart of the base. It was here the officers were housed as well as logistics and communication. Or there should have been.

Instead there was nothing here but a large empty space. 

Something was very, very wrong.

He could see the same thought echoed back at him from Luche's face. The man had discarded his hood and facecloth sometime during the fight. His normally slicked back blond hair hung into his forehead and was covered in soot and ash. Other than a few scrapes and a nasty bruise forming over his cheek bone, he seemed to be fine.

The sun beat down upon them, signalling the nearing midday. The air was hot and sticky and stank of ozone and molten metal and rubber. It left an oily film at the back of his throat with each breath Nyx took and made him wish he hadn't already used up all of his meagre water rations. 

His muscles ached from the continued fighting and he could feel a stasis nearing. He had simply used up too much of his magic. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, however, as it had saved more than one life. 

“Keep your eyes peeled,” he ordered. “This stinks of a trap.”

Next to him Libertus shifted his weight in anxiousness. “I've got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered just loud enough for Nyx to hear.

Suddenly Luche raised a hand and the growing mutterings between the Glaives stopped at once. He activated his comm, clearly listening to something. The longer he did so the paler his already fair complexion grew and a raw look of fear flittered through his eyes. It made Nyx' stomach plummet in dread. Luche looked him in the eye and suddenly Nyx knew.

Glauca.

Ruthlessly, Nyx shoved down the urge to order a full retreat. It had never been stated directly during the planning of this attack, but they would take this chance to kill the monster in the armour, one of the main reasons they had had to flee Galahd seven years ago. 

With a resolute nod towards Luche, Nyx opened his mouth to issue new orders, but was interrupted by the sudden cry of “Dropships incoming!”. 

“So this really is a trap,” someone behind him mumbled, despair lining the voice.

Nyx gritted his teeth. He knew the sensible thing to do was to order a retreat. At once. Before the trap napped shut.

“Libs, contact Crowe.”

“What? Nyx, we need to fucking go, right now!” his best friend hissed into his ear. 

“No!” Nyx half yelled, half growled.

He refused. He refused to let Glauca slip through his fingers again. That man had collapsed the tunnels he, his sister and his  _mahir_ had been in, killing the last of his immediate family. He bared his teeth in a snarl.

All eyes were on him.

The high pitched whine of the air ships' engine ground against his sensitive ears.

“Contact Crowe,” he repeated, his voice a harsh rasp. “Ask her if she and her Unit managed to master that storm field spell they have been practising.”

Realization crossed Libertus' face like a ray of sunlight in a dark, cloudy sky and the tense atmosphere eased the tiniest bit. 

“This plan is madness,” growled Luche as he came closer.

“I won't let Glauca slip through my fingers this time, if I don't have to, Luche,” Nyx growled back.

The blond man stared at him with hard eyes. Exhaustion was edged into his face, a testament to the overall state of the Glaives present. Damn it, he shouldn't have let all of their main attack force fight from the beginning. It must have been hours now that they had fought without much of a break, safe for a few moments they had been able to steal here and there. 

MT didn't grow tired. Humans did. 

“She says yes,” interrupted Libertus before Luche could respond.

“Good. Tell her to blast as many ships out of the sky as she can. Units Arl and Sevah, trap this place to Pitioss and back. Those tin cans aren't to take a single step without something going off. The rest of you, regain as much strength as you can before one of the ships make it through. Share any elixirs you might still have left over. I'll go after Glauca.”

“Have the _ohtahi triantafe_ finally cooked your brain? This is madness, Nyx. No one has gone up against that man in a direct confrontation and lived,” Libertus practically yelled. 

“Libertus is right. They say not even the Royal House dared to do it, back when Regis still deigned to leave Insomnia,” Luche cut in.

“I won't go alone,” defended Nyx.

“Oh, and who exactly will help you? Our strongest fighters will be here because of your hair brained scheme,” his hunting-brother growled.

“Oresch Unit,” answered Nyx before he could stop to think about what he was doing. “They are by the breached wall. Luche, where is Glauca now?”

Luche was clearly unwilling to answer, but after a few seconds he sighed. “Fine, you win. The Fathers must have blessed you, for your stupid ideas to work so often. He was seen outside the base, close to the Crag and to the north. Don't lose, Nyx. If you do, the whole Glaive is done for.”

Nyx nodded, eyes flashing in a silent promise, and ran out of the base as fast as he could, as the sky darkened with roiling clouds and lightning flashed. 

 

* * *

 

Oresch Unit had not been idle during the fighting. Nyx' experienced eye could see the signs of traps half hidden in the rubble. Discreet lines were drawn into the dust and dirt, and he wondered who had sacrificed their water to make these. Most of them were old Galahdian scourge wardings that had been modified to work against Niflheimr magitek. Their presence read dangerously close to that of a daemon. 

Their leader was a petite woman with shoulder length dark, brown hair that, at the right side of her head, was braided close to her head in a series of small braids forming a wave pattern. Her name was Ladone Najad, Tethys' aunt, and was approaching her fiftieth year. She had somehow mastered the art of startling even a behemoth with her presence alone, if she so desired, or she could make herself be completely overlooked. 

That was exactly what he needed in this situation. Should he not be able to do it, she could use her talent to catch Glauca unawares and kill him. 

Probably. 

Hopefully.

Ladone listened to his plan with the gravitas of a person who had seen it all. She didn't say a word until he had ended and looked at her expectantly. One of her thin eyebrows rose the tiniest bit, as she thoughtfully chewed on one of those fireleaves she carried around everywhere. 

“You're worse than your _thuir_ ever was,” she drawled and spit a reddish blob onto the ground. “My ancestors and the serpents in the water help me, I'll do it. But I want my _makuwid_ to stay here, _makti-oir_. I won't let this wall be undefended should something happen, and if I've learned one thing with those _zehstiris,_ it's that there's always something going on with them. I'll follow you, to death, if need be, but be aware that, if I get the chance, I'll take it. This isn't your kill alone.”

Her eyes were piercing and hard as flintstone as she looked at him. He nodded respectfully. Ladone Najad wasn't somebody he wanted mad at him. Ever. 

“Of course, _namakar_ ,” he answered. 

“Good. Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Iase, you're in charge until I get back,” she barked.

A woman in her late thirties and hair cut so short it was nothing more than fuzz on her head, gave a salute. Ladone nodded and turned her attention back towards Nyx.

“Before I forget, here.” She threw a flask at him. It contained a yellowish liquid flecked with blue. “My son-in-law made this. It's better than the dishwater the Lucians try to sell us as an ether. Take it. You look like shit.”

Nyx' only answer was a tired glare, but he emptied the small flask without another word. It tasted kind of like he imagined a swamp to taste like. The thick liquid travelled down into his stomach, leaving a warm and revitalizing trail in its wake. At the very least it worked gentler than the punch in the gut that was a Lucian ether.

“Well?” she said, her head cocked in a way that clearly communicated they should go _now_.

Without another word Nyx started walking north. They stepped into the shadows of the trees growing close to the edge of Tealpar Crag, and from one moment to the next Ladone seemed to vanish into thin air. Nyx breathed an exasperated huff that just covered how anxious he really was. 

Around him nature was unnaturally still. The animals had probably all fled when the fighting had begun this morning. Storm clouds swallowed nearly all of the daylight and lightning shrieked in the sky as it hit a dropship. The combined magic of nine mages weaving the field spell, was a growing weight prickling against his senses. Wind howled through the trees and across naked rock. It reminded him uncomfortably of the first hints of a Galahdian autumn storm.

He snarled to chase away the dread pooling in his gut, making his hands slippery with sweat and his senses going haywire at the sensation of being watched. Which he was. By Ladone. An alley, he reminded himself firmly and stepped out of the thinning trees and into the open. The ground was bare rock with a few stubborn bushels of grass growing here and there, and behind him the enemy base loomed, smoking and wreathed in lightning.

Suddenly, there he was.

General Glauca.

He emerged from the shadows of an erratic boulder like he was a daemon himself.

Each step the mountain of a man took sounded with a dull  _thud_ over the lighting roaring in the sky, his very presence filled the air with dread. Nyx crouched down, muscles suddenly too tense as his instincts screamed at him to  _run_ , and bared his teeth in a warning snarl. 

“Your attack on the base was surprisingly effective, Glaive. You have my compliments,” Glauca snarled in a warped voice that set Nyx' teeth on edge and made his hair stand on end. The decidedly mocking tone didn't make it any better. “But now you are exactly where I want you to be.”

Nyx crouched even lower, nearly on all fours now. The handles of his kukri dug into his palms and he readjusted his grip. 

A bone-grinding laugh travelled through the air and suddenly Nyx realized that this... person in front of him couldn't be human. It radiated an energy uncomfortably close to a powerful daemon and through the crevices and seams of the armour shone a dark light that betrayed its true nature. That of absolute malice for malices sake.

Unbidden, an old adage of protection and warding tumbled from his lips.

Another unholy laugh.

“You think this will help you, little Glaive? Words for beings that are nothing more than hot air themselves? Let me tell you one thing: there are no Gods. There are only those strong enough to lord their power over those too weak to do anything about it.”

“I'm not interested in what you have to say, _zehstir_ ,” Nyx hissed.

His field of vision widened, and he could now hear the near silent whirr Glauca's armour emitted as he dragged the tip of his huge sword in an arch across the dirt in a mock salute. 

“Ah, how long has it been since somebody called me that?” Glauca drawled each word, rolling them around his tongue as if they were a fine wine. “That name brings back memories.”

With a roar of sudden fury, Nyx threw the kukri in his right hand and pounced. 

The warp was quick and instinctive. For a split second, he saw nothing but magical particles glowing a near blinding blue. His fingers closed around the grip of his kukri without hesitation as he twisted in the air to strike his prey where his neck met the shoulder. 

An ice cold hand clamped around his wrist in an iron grip and tossed him away. Nyx rolled across the dirt, using the momentum to twist into a crouching position again. His breath came in quick bursts and his lungs burned. Damn it. He was too tired for this fight. It had made him a second too slow.

“How pathetic. I expected more of a challenge from an esteemed warrior like you,” mocked the thing masquerading as human.

Thundering steps drew slowly nearer, but this time Nyx wouldn't let himself be goaded into attacking too early. 

He stayed still. 

Waited.

Magic, free and wild and powerful like the coeurls of his home, thrummed beneath his skin, giving his tiring muscles the opportunity to react fast enough.

Glauca's blade rose and Nyx darted beneath his arm and behind him. He jumped onto the General's back as the man took a jerky step forward, his blade cutting nothing but air where he had without a doubt expected Nyx' head to be.

This tiny mistake gave him enough time to find a grip on the armour as he slammed one of his kukri into the left shoulder guard. Lightning shrieked, bright and deafening, as it travelled from his hand into the blade and then into the magitek armour. 

Glauca roared. More in fury than in pain, but it was still loud enough to make Nyx' ears ring and his vision blur. The inhuman sound sent goosebumps up and down his spine. 

The armour started to glow as too much energy travelled through it and began to melt away. With a triumphant growl, Nyx challenged even more lightning. Slowly, oh so slowly, he could feel the armour give away. But it wasn't fast enough.

His prey started to struggle, trying to get him off.

In response Nyx slung one arm around the helmet and watched as it started to light up as it was assaulted by bolts of lightning. With another roar of fury his prey stumble backwards. One step. Then another. Farther and farther until Nyx' back hit the erratic boulder. Hard.

Dark spots danced across his vision and the air was pressed out of his lungs. His grip slacked and the lightning stopped as his concentration broke.

Something hit him hard in the face. He could taste blood on his tongue and blinding pain exploded behind his eyes as the back of his head collided with the boulder at his back. Again he was thrown through the air. Only this time he landed painfully on his side. 

He lay there as he struggled to pull air back into his lungs. Only luck had allowed him to not lose his grip on both kukri. Shit, he hoped he hadn't broken any ribs. 

Harsh laboured breaths echoed mechanically through the magically charged air. It stank nauseatingly of ozone, hot metal and something putrid that made Nyx retch. 

“Do you... really think that... something like this... will kill me, Glaive?”

_I hoped it would_ , Nyx wanted to say but couldn't, too busy with just breathing and dragging himself up onto his feet again. He couldn't allow himself to stay down. To stay down was to die. And he couldn't die now when things were finally changing. 

Finally he managed to clear his swimming vision enough to be able to focus on Glauca again. The monster in human skin still stood by the bolder. He did not quite lean on it, but it was clear that the melted armour on his shoulder was giving him trouble. The destroyed parts on his helmet were already regenerating, giving Nyx only the most fleeting of glances at a patch of pale skin at the temple. 

He cursed quietly inside. He had nearly had him. 

His limbs trembled as he forced himself to stand upright. Stasis was looming dangerously close. He had put nearly all of his newly regained magical strength into that attack.

Movement on top of the boulder caught his eye. Barely a moment later Glauca howled. Still eerie and hair raising and mechanical. But this time in pain as a long and thin kukri found the weakest spot of his destroyed shoulder guard. 

Ladone twisted the blade with a thundering war cry before ripping it out again. She was gone again within the blink of an eye. As if she had never been there in the first place. 

A sword slammed into the boulder and nearly cut it in half.

“I will make sure there is nothing left of both of you to bury once I'm finished with you,” hissed Glauca through clenched teeth. 

Nyx barked a laugh. An idea started to take form in his mind. It was madness, but it could work. He hoped Ladone would catch onto it. Otherwise he was pretty much dead.

“For that you need to catch me first,” he rasped with sharp grin full of teeth and retreated back the way he had come between the trees. 

As he had hoped Glauca followed him, each step a tiny earthquake. 

Wood splintered as his huge blade hit the trees Nyx duck behind, just dancing behind its reach like a cat playing keep-away. 

A gust of wind that shouldn't have been. Metal rang against metal as Ladone struck again and vanished just as quickly as she had before. As Glauca made to follow her Nyx charged in a half hearted attack that missed its mark by an embarrassingly huge margin, to keep the man's attention focused on him. 

Further and further Nyx lured Glauca between the trees. Closer and closer to the edge of the Crag. To an arch close to the one the Glaive had used to cross it, but still far enough away from the others. Hopefully.

Nyx' movements started to get sluggish. The burning in his lungs had exceeded uncomfortable and passed into painful a while ago. Each new breath he took was a struggle between his need for oxygen, to just keep moving a little further – nearly there, nearly there nearlytherenearlythere – and the instinctive need to avoid the pain it caused to suck in each new gulp of air. 

His concentration had shifted from avoiding the sword chasing him to just keep moving. He knew, if he stopped, it would be over. 

Suddenly the trees were gone and the Crag gaped at his back, beckoning the unwary to a horrifying death. A death Glauca had a scheduled meeting with, if Nyx had anything to say about it. 

Oh so carefully he started to inch his way over the arch, concentrating only on Glauca and what his prey was doing. His steps had grown uneven and his left arm hung uselessly by his side. There were obvious chinks in his armour now. Nyx grinned a bloody grin. Ladone had gotten the bastard good. 

Voices sounded from his left and behind him, but he ignored them in favour of Glauca. They were so close. So close to killing the second nightmare of Galahd. 

Suddenly the man stopped right at the edgy of the arch. Nyx tensed.

“Do you think this cheap trick will work on me?”

Too late Nyx realized what Glauca meant. He flung himself forward in a futile attempt to stop it, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. Exhaustion ate away at him, both magical and physical. 

A dark shadow slammed into Glauca's back with a defiant cry as the sword was driven into the arch, crumbling it with a nauseating wave of something that was neither magic nor scourge. 

Nyx stumbled. One step, then another.

Then the ground beneath him fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams hands on the table*  
> This chapter is finally done! Sorry for the long wait, in compensation this is extra long.  
> I'm prepared to get screamed at.  
> May be important:  
> I have no experience in military things outside of history and video games, so I googled for half an hour, despaired at which English terms to use, and in the end just picked some at random. The newly restructured Kingsglaive has Units (5 -10 people), Troops (2 or more Units) and Companies (2 or more Troops). Units are named after the letters of their ancient runic alphabet, Troops after Galahdian towns and Companies after native animals. (It occured to me only afterwards that I could have used normal numbers or something, but at that point I didn't want the work to go to waist, so...)  
> Also, Glauca is one bitter bastard and Nyx shouldn't spew magical lightning everywhere.
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking with this stroy.  
> Until next chapter!


	10. Tealpar Crag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nyx levels his sneaking skills up and Libertus is badass.
> 
> Featuring:  
> Taelpar Crag's creepy vibe, sneaking, Libertus saving Nyx' ass for a change, Ladone being cool and the author's pitiful attempt at Early Modern English. (She is very bad at it.)
> 
> Warnings:  
> blood, injury, death of an animal and mention of reanimated corpses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in Hadnissa:
> 
> kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit  
> ahtri = Spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors  
> thuir = father  
> zehstir = foreigner, enemy; very strong insult  
> makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter  
> credahtri = term for someone who abandoned the Galahdian way of life; lit.: ghost heart  
> akastral = demon; more specifically a dead soul clinging to (or trapped withtin) its own body instead of moving on  
> gekkan = bear like creature with antlers native to Galahd
> 
> Other stuff:  
> Enías and Kyriákos are two of the five Fathers of the Hunt, a group of spirits/Gods, a large part of their culture centres around. Enías is the tracker that finds a prey's tracks and hides your own, and Kyriákos makes your blade unerring, your feet fast and silent, and your arm strong.  
> Dala is the name of a Clan that consists largely of animal farmers and butchers.

_Nyx!_

The cry, high and desperate, washed over him like a wave crushing against a cliff side during a spring storm, as the sky fell away from him. Had that been Crowe? He couldn't be sure and had no time to contemplate it. He gritted his teeth so tight the muscles in his jaw twitched, to keep his voice from joining the wind howling around him.

It tugged insistently at his hair, his clothes, his skin like it was trying to keep him from falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the shadows of the Crag. It wasn't trying hard enough.

Nyx was so tired. His muscles were nothing but old rubber and each thought had to be grasped tightly or it would vanish in the murky molasses of his exhausted mind. Instinctively he tried to control his fall, years of flinging himself off cliff sides and warp training kicked in and made him spread his limbs out in a bit to stabilize his flailing body and slow him down.

Sharp rock and crystal rushed by him, often times nearly close enough to clip his body and make him tumbling down. It was so tempting to try and dig one of his kukris into it to try and break his fall. He knew it wouldn't work. Sooner his blade would be damaged irreparably and he would die.

He had only one chance and he intended to make it count. Nyx dug as deep as he could into the place where his magicks rested. The _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ and the feeling of _sharp glass-intruder-foreign_. Both were nearly depleted, the King's magic less so but it still wasn't enough to scrounge together a warp-jump. In a near panic he also reached for his own magic, only a few precious sparks were left. Together they were enough, they had to be. Time was getting short.

Falling by a stone arch that nearly beheaded him, Nyx could see what he assumed to be the ground now. It was dangerously close. This had to work or he was dead. With all his remaining strength he threw the kukri in his right hand and _followed_.

It didn't feel like any other warp-jump he had ever done. This didn't feel like hurling himself head first through a door at full tilt with shadows grappling at him, a presence pressing down and stealing the breath from his lungs. No. This time it was like a leap over a vast chasm. It stretched him thin and for but a moment it was like every receptor in his brain was firing at once. There was a loud crackling bang, as if lightning struck the earth, and then he was rolling over the rocky ground.

 

* * *

 

Blue eyes blinked open blearily and stared at the sky above them, uncomprehending of what they were seeing. Sky wasn't exactly the right word for it. It was dark, too dark for the sun to still be shining and that should make Nyx very nervous, but right now he was too exhausted to care.

Instead he lay on the hard rocky ground, limbs arranged awkwardly around him and just... breathed. Far, far up, a thin band of tiny pinpricks of light were scattered in the dark, their light reflecting on large arches of crystal the likes of which he had never seen before. It all carried an otherworldly beauty that was easier to concentrate on than the situation he was in.

He remembered the attack on the Niff base that had been a strangely ramshackle construction and entirely untypical.

Glauca. Nyx remembered him. His fight, Ladone, the fall.

The fall.

He had fallen down Taelpar Crag.

The thought was enough to make him move. Or try to, at last. The moment he tried to roll onto his side the whole world lurched and despite the darkness around him restricting his ability to see, he felt like everything was spinning. If he hadn't been lying down already, he would be now. Maybe the darkness made it even worse. He didn't know.

Nyx groaned. His mouth was as dry as a summer's day in Galahd and his tongue lay heavy and fuzzy against his gums. He needed something to drink. Badly.

It took a while for the world to stop feeling like it was hanging on only one hinge and spinning and spinning and spinning out of control. Nyx swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and took several steadying breaths. Slowly, oh so slowly he pulled his arms closer towards him and proceeded to push himself up.

A breath hissed through gritted teeth when he was finally sitting up. His muscled quaked in exhaustion and everything was sore. Especially his back and left side.

A cry echoed through the Crag, starving and aggressive and animalistic. It didn't sound like it was very close, but still it made dread crawl up Nyx' spine with cold fingers. He couldn't stay here, he needed to move, he needed to get out of here and find his people. He needed... Another cry sounded. Had it gotten closer? Nyx wasn't sure, his brain still too busy with sorting through what the fuck had actually happened. He needed a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Easier said than done.

The first time he tried to get his feet underneath him, it ended with him nearly face planting from the sudden bout of vertigo. Magical exhaustion was a bitch. It turned your brain to mush, slowed your reaction time to basically nothing and made you simultaneously feel like you had the worst hangover ever combined with not having slept for a week.

His hands brushed something cool and the sound of metal scraping against stone made him perk up. His fingers couldn't get a firm grip on the kukris, but they still made him feel so much safer, even if he probably wouldn't be able to hit a garula standing still in his condition.

The second try was better. Nyx stood there, swaying like a strong wind could blow him over, but he was standing. Finally he squinted into the night, trying to ascertain is surroundings without accessing the enhanced senses his magic could grant him. It was startling how instinctual it had become for him over the last week, which was both good and bad. Right now it was bad, since trying to use magic while in stasis or a hairbreadth away from it was something even he wasn't stupid enough to try.

It wasn't as dark as he had first thought it was. The strange crystals weren't exactly luminescent but they reflected the starlight far better than they should have been able to. Not two metres away from him was the wall rising straight up like a shadowy giant. In his condition he would never be able to climb it. He seemed to be on a small plateau surrounded by natural stone pillars that rose up to it like stairs. The air was cold despite it being summer and smelled indescribably of history, age and magic. It made his skin itch and the fine hairs on his arms rise.

Which direction should he go? It might be a very stupid idea to move in the dark but he couldn't stay where he was either, unprotected and unable to defend himself. The answer provided itself as he turned around, careful to not trigger another bout of vertigo, and saw the telltale smoky band of a haven rise up not too far from him.

Nyx blinked and stared at it dumbly. What was a haven doing here? _Why_ was there a haven here? Despite the questions wading through his mind, he started to climb down from his spot. Since he didn't carry the materials of erecting a barrier against daemons in the way of his people, the haven was his best bet. There had never been an Oracle to Galahd to bless the earth with their brand of protection spells, so they had had to come up with their own methods. He would never take a step out of Insomnia without the means to erect a safe place again, he swore it by his ancestors.

Sending a silent prayer towards Enías and Kyriákos he climbed over the descending pillars. Sometimes on all fours, if he had to. There was no one to see it anyway.

The haven was situated along the bend of something that looked like a pathway further down into the Crag among a patch of grass stubbornly clinging the the thin layer of earth that had accumulated over time. A tiny stream whispered over age old stone and Nyx nearly fell onto the ground again as he went to his knees and drank in tiny sips. The water was so cold it made his stomach cramp but it was a balm for his dry throat.

When he laid down in the surprisingly soft patch of grass the magical fire of the haven ignited itself, sending a warm glow out into the night. Nyx didn't care if it ruined his night vision. Here he was safe from any daemons that might be down here and that was enough for now.

He closed his eyes. Again the scene shortly before he had fallen flashed across his mind. Glauca, his sword raised to strike the stone arch Nyx was standing on, and Ladone hurling towards him. She had been too slow. He nearly snorted, one of the few times the woman was too slow and it was in this fucked up situation.

Hopefully she wasn't blaming herself. She had been a friend of his father's, always there on the periphery as he grew up. A soft look had always replaced her usual scowl as she had taught him what few hunting tricks Ilias Ulric had shown her. Nyx had been so stupidly grateful. Still was.

He hoped they had made it back to Insomnia by now, he hoped the ambush hadn't killed anybody else, he hoped Ladone had been able to finish Glauca off, he hoped... He hoped they were looking for him, a tiny part of himself whispered into the dark of the night.

As if to not only shield himself from the cold and the darkness lurking around him, but also from his own thoughts, Nyx curled up on the grass by the fire and allowed his exhaustion to pull him down into the realm of sleep again.

 

* * *

 

When he awoke again, it wasn't night anymore. Daylight spilt down the steep walls of Taelpar Crag, making the huge crystals almost seem see-through at certain angles. The green of the plants that were stubborn enough to grow here and the white of the stone nearly seemed to glow. It was a truly beautiful place. One Nyx could easily do without.

He just lay there, letting the light warm him and feeling even worse than last night – had it been last night? The stasis had eased some, a faint whisper of _animal-deep jungle-instinct_ thrummed at the back of his mind and his connection towards the Lucian magic didn't feel as frayed and _cutting-glass-sharp_ anymore. He could barely move a finger without it hurting. Sleeping on the rocky ground, grass or no grass, hadn't helped the situation at all.

But he needed to move and so he forced himself to uncurl and drink again from the tiny stream. Splashing his face with the cold water helped a bit and chased the last vestiges of exhaustion a way for now. Next, he bent down next to the haven's fire pit and touched one of the stones forming the ring with his dominant hand. Nyx' voice was rough and gravelly as he whispered the traditional words of thanks towards the Fathers of the Hunt for having protected him during the night, and also for the haven. It might be foreign and strangely passive like all havens were, but it had protected him and it was never wrong to be polite to magical beings and places. They all had the tendency to remember bad behaviour.

Picking up his kukris, only now did he see in how bad a condition they were. The blade of Galahdian make – or rather what the Lucian weapon manufacturer had thought to be Galahdian make, which it most certainly wasn't – was warped beyond repair. The metal bent from too much magic and lighting channelled through it and the grip looked close to crumbling. The other one looked a bit better. Not by much, but it seemed to still be useable in a pinch.

With a heavy sigh, he left the broken blade behind. If nothing else it would make a good token of gratitude in exchange for the protection he'd had for the night.

Something instinctual within him balked at the idea of following the way up and Nyx and long since learned to listen to his instincts. So further down it was.

It didn't take him long to determine that there was something very wrong with this place.

It wasn't only the strange feeling in the air, like there was something ancient and rotten watching him, but also the dead bodies strewn around the way and pinned to the wall by rusted weapons. Most likely their own.

A great number of them wore armour the likes of which, if he remembered Lucian history correctly, had been worn six hundred to one hundred and fifty years ago. There were no few pieces that looked older, but were rusted so badly he couldn't be sure if they actually were armour or weapons or something else.

Nyx knew the stories about Tealpar Crag. Of how people that wandered inside, never came out again. Lucians had avoided the Crag so obsessively that they had forgotten their own stories about it, which was honestly just another way to show how idiotic the mainlanders were most of the time. But he hadn't expected this. Some of the skeletons were old enough they should have been turned into dust a long time ago with how exposed they were to the elements even down here.

There was magic at play, ancient and powerful and probably entirely natural, and Nyx had to stamp down on the urge to tap into his own to get a feel for it.

He continued on. There was nothing in this age old carnage for him to find.

The path dipped left into a hollowed out section of the Crag's wall and grew so steep Nyx had difficulties to continue on. If he hadn't been moving so slowly, he probably would have missed the glint at the mouth of the tunnel, wedged between two rocks. Since bending down was a bad idea right now, Nyx kneeled to get a better look.

It was a glass vial which contained a sparkling blue liquid. Carefully, he rolled it between his hands. On one side there was a hairline fracture, but nothing leaked out. Someone must have dropped it there. It was sealed with a glass stopper to which clung the remnants of black wax. An old potion by the looks of it. Nyx weighted it in his hand for a few seconds before he pocketed it. If for nothing else, than to show Crowe and the other magic crazy Glaives when he finally got out of here.

Struggling back to his feet, he groaned as his left side twinged in protest at the unappreciated motion. He stumbled into the dark tunnel, one hand braced against the wall for support. He hadn't made it very far inside when he heard them.

Animals, or daemons. Or both.

“ _Kohna_ ,” he whispered under his breath.

He was in no condition to fight daemons. He was in no condition to fight much of anything, period. His only hope was that he could somehow sneak past them.

With the next step he took, Nyx practically melted into the shadows of the tunnel, his steps didn't make a sound. The daemons – and it was daemons he noted with equal parts apprehension and relief – came into view after the next bend. Light filtered through cracks in the wall like sharp edged spears the creatures avoided at all costs. He could use that to his advantage.

There wasn't exactly much officially known about daemons, but Nyx had learned through experience that their sense of hearing wasn't that great, so he didn't need to pay too much attention on the sounds he made, and with the beams of light in the room their eyesight mustn't be that good either. Libertus was convinced they could smell fear, which no one could prove or disprove.

The cave was surprisingly large with a series of pillars that showed that humans had been invested in this place once. Which was creepy, since, to Nyx, this place felt like it would be the perfect home for a murder of crows. The pillars didn't reach the ceiling and so were very useful to him.

Long fingers made sure that his one remaining kukri was still securely sheathed at the small of his back, before he carefully started to inch his way towards a ledge that couldn't have formed naturally and started maybe a metre above the ground. It was carved into the stone, rough and uneven, but large enough for a grown man to fit, if he wasn't claustrophobic.

Hoisting himself up made his muscles quiver, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed to stop himself from groaning in fatigue and pain.

A daemon ambled by and Nyx froze, pressing himself into the rough stone that surrounded him on three sides. It stopped where he had stood no two minutes ago and sniffed the air. Sweat pooled in Nyx' palms as he forced himself to take even breaths and not to panic. If the daemons detected him now, he wouldn't be able to react. He would be as good as dead.

The thing – it kind of looked like a goblin, just with more sharp edges and seemingly double the amount of joints – sniffed again. The sound grated against his ears. It made a sound that was like a high pitched scream and a mad cackle rolled into one, before it jumped once, twice and bounded down the tunnel Nyx had come from. So it had been able to smell him to some extend. Good to know but also bad news. He needed to get out of this cave and back into the sun before the goblin-thing noticed it had run into the wrong direction.

As careful and silent as he could, he started to crawl forward. Each time a daemon came too close he froze and prayed to his ancestors and to the Fathers of the Hunt, that they wouldn't find him. They didn't.

He was maybe halfway across the cave, the ledge had risen until it was just below the ceiling and now tilted sharply upwards. End of the road. Very carefully, he did not curse out loud. A cursory glance into the room showed him that he was in an area shielded by two beams of light with no daemons within and one of those small pillars at the edge of it. Very convenient. Almost as if someone had designed it that way.

Trying not to jostle his injured side, he slid partly off the ledge and swung himself on top of the pillar. He froze, sitting on his haunches, and tried to determine if the daemons had seen, heard or otherwise sensed him. None moved intentionally closer and he doubted they could plan that kind of ambush. Nyx remained where he was for a few minutes longer, just to make sure.

From his elevated position further into the room he could make out the exit. It was behind some kind of small shrine, the ropes around it held some kind of barrier spell, if he read it right. For now the barrier was inactive. Nyx had no idea what would activate it and he honestly had no desire to find out. He just wanted to get out of here without dying.

The daemon that had followed his smell down the tunnel came back, chittering its displeasure for all to hear, but did nothing else. Maybe it thought he had escaped back into the sunlight.

Jumping from pillar to pillar like a cat made the path so much easier. It was a bit like jumping from tree to tree in Galahd's jungles to ambush the MT trampling through. Just without the actual ambush. Or other people as backup. Why had he taken the feather out of his braids again?

When he finally slipped past the little shrine, careful not to touch any of the ropes or the coloured cloths hanging off them, he escaped the tunnel as fast as he dared, only sighing in relief when he felt the sunlight caress his skin. It was already late afternoon. Had he really spent that long inside that cave? That couldn't be true, could it?

Nyx stretched his sore muscles cautiously, wincing at the painful twinge in his side. He slipped off his armour, his coat and pulled up the stiff shirt and vest beneath it to reveal a series of large, nearly black bruises. They covered most of his left side. He poked at one, swearing under his breath at the pain, and got fully dressed again. This wasn't good, but at least none of his ribs seemed to be broken. He should have checked that before he had spent hours lying on his stomach. Stupid.

With a derisive snort he continued his way further down into the Crag.

It was getting very close to dusk when he found the haven. His second one since he had gotten stuck here. He had certainly hoped to have found a way out of this _ahtrii_ forsaken place by now. No such luck.

The haven was hidden away underneath an overhanging rock just off the path. There was a thin stream of water trickling down the wall and collecting in a clear, small pool that nearly seemed to glow. It was eerie but Nyx was thirsty and couldn't exactly afford to be picky. The taste was fresh and cool with just a bit of something that zinged along his tongue. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but disturbing nonetheless.

Close to the small pool, the stones were positively covered in lichen and moss. Both looked close enough to the variants growing in Galahd that he decided to take the risk and eat them. They... tasted horrible, but since he wasn't dead by the time night fell he figured they hadn't been poisonous.

He sat down, still hungry, leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and closed his eyes. He was so tired. The gurgling whisper of water lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

Nyx jolted awake, head jerking up and neck cracking as he rose from his uncomfortable position. It was still dark, even if a few hours must have passed. A quick glance up towards the sky with bleary eyes showed him a nearly full moon . The crystals glittered around him.

Something had woken him up, but there was nothing as far as his tired senses could pick up. After a few minutes of silent tension he was ready to go back to sleep, blaming his overtaxed senses for waking him up. The last few days had been a Pitioss damned disaster, after all.

He had just decided to sit down again when he heard it. The echoing cry of a daemon that was abruptly cut off and shortly thereafter the sound of footsteps.

More than one pair.

Probably two.

There were people here? Other than him, that was. Or were those some kind of daemon the had never seen before? Nyx wouldn't put it past this place. But until now he hadn't seen them anywhere outside the caves.

Near soundlessly he unsheathed his one remaining kukri and crept towards the edge of the haven. The steps came from further up the path and grew steadily louder until another sound was added to the cold air.

Voices.

Voices he knew, he realized with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

“... so far down?”

“Let's just find a place for us to hole up in for tonight and continue searching in the morning. We won't get much of anything done, if we're too tired to see straight. Especially fighting.”

“I know, I know. Let's just hope there's another haven somewhere around here.”

And then they stepped around the corner, dark silhouettes in the night. Two people he was very glad to see, indeed, even if he hadn't expected it at all.

“Libertus, Ladone?” he called.

Both silhouettes froze.

“Nyx! I knew that tumble wouldn't be able to kill you!”

Libertus surged forward and pulled Nyx into a hug so tight, it pressed the air right out of his lungs and made lances of pain shoot through his beaten up side. Not that Nyx let that stop him from returning the hug just as tightly. When he was finally let go, Ladone was there, her stern flintstone gaze softened by worry and relief as she eyed him from head to toe.

“You've got even more rotten lucky than your _thuir_ , boy,” she noted, her voice rough, as she pressed another home-brewed ether into his hand.

He gave her a grateful smile and fingered the vial before downing the yellow liquid in one go. The sudden surge of energy made him shudder.

“Not just a tumble,” he grinned as they sat down around the firepit.

Nyx was positively giddy, and not just because of the ether. He hadn't truly realized under how much stress he had been until a large part of it fell away in one big swoop. Now he had two extra pairs of eyes and hands, people he could rely on and who watched his back as unflinchingly as he watched theirs. It didn't hurt either that most of the after effects of the stasis had vanished.

“How did you survive?” asked Ladone. “Most of the people who saw you fall are convinced you died.”

“I broke my fall with a warp. Scrounged up what was left of my magic for it and passed out because of the resulting stasis afterwards. It was strange though. I didn't have enough left of my own or the King's magic individually to manage it, so I combined them – don't ask me how, I have no idea. The warp turned out all kinds of weird because of it.”

“Weird how?” she asked, her thin brows furrowed in concentration.

“Weird like...” Nyx had to stop and actually think about it. He couldn't remember that much of what had happened shortly before and during his fall down into Taelpar Crag. When he continued, the words were slow and halting. “It didn't feel like it usually does. More like I was really jumping between places. You know all these slow motion scenes in those overly dramatic movies the Lucians are so fond of? Like that, but fast.”

“That,” started Libertus with a peculiar look on his face, “makes no sense at all.”

Nyx just shrugged. He had no other way to describe it, only having done it once. And he wasn't going to do it again until he could talk it through with somebody who had more knowledge in all things magic than him.

“How are the others? Did everybody make it out of that trap alright? What about Glauca? The last thing I remember of him is his damned sword coming down towards the arch I was standing on.”

“For the most part. Your idea to use that field spell was absolute genius. Less than half of the drop-ships made it through and none of those who did were undamaged. No one else died. Crowe and the other mages were all very close to stasis afterwards, but otherwise fine. Which, by the way, is the only reason she didn't come, too. Luche is holding down the fort, so to speak. He said he can give us three days before he has to start heading back to Insomnia,” answered Libertus.

That was stupidly risky. Why was Luche doing that? Not even a month ago he would have been halfway back to Insomnia with the rest of the Glaive by now.

“Glauca isn't dead,” Ladone butted in.

A long beat of tense silence followed.

“What?” exclaimed Nyx, utterly astonished. He had been so sure they had finally taken that son of a bitch down. That man had practically been on his last leg. “How?”

“I tried to stop him from crumbling the arch, but I was too late. People always say I'm the fastest they know, but the one time it really counts I'm too slow. Figures. That _zehstir_ released some kind of energy wave, knocking everybody too close back. It gave him enough time to get away.”

“Damn,” whispered Nyx, not sure what else to say.

Two days, he thought.

Two days until they had to be back at the Niff base, and if he judged this new Luche right, who was all about not following Lucian orders too closely all of the sudden, he would probably move as slowly as possible during the way back to give them even more time.

“You two should get some sleep,” he said after a long pause.

“What about you?” Libertus wanted to know.

“After that ether I doubt I'll be able to sleep, and I don't think either of you got any chance to rest while chasing after me.”

“Heh, you're damn right. Chasing after your ass is exhausting,” snorted Libertus.

“Oh my, big guy. I didn't know you felt that way about me. Why didn't you say anything sooner?” Nyx batted his eyelashes at his hunting-brother in a faux coy expression.

Libertus playfully shoved at his shoulder, grumbling fondly under his breath while Ladone rolled her eyes.

“Just don't do anything where I can hear you,” she deadpanned and laid down, her back turned towards them and the fire.

If she felt their incredulous stares, she didn't give any indication thereof. The hunting-brothers looked at each other, their expressions moving in a silent conversation until Libertus huffed and laid down as well.

Nyx spent the rest of the night in contemplative silence.

 

* * *

 

They left their meagre camp as soon as there was enough light to move safely. Time was short and none of them knew how far they still had to go.

“Why don't we just go back the way you came?” Nyx asked as they continued to walk further down, now along wooden walkways that had been attached along the Crag's walls.

They weren't in the best of conditions, but steady and wound their way down and down, and for the first time Nyx could see how deep the Crag really was. It made his mind dizzy and his heart race. As far as he could tell, they were more than halfway down. To thirds maybe. Massive stone arches spanned the distance between the walls like bridges. The farther they went, the more Nyx felt like they were being watched. It made him more than a bit antsy.

“Damn Nyx, would you stop that already!” complained Libertus as lightning fizzled in the air yet again.

Nyx didn't bother with an answer. He couldn't really help it. He just felt himself bristle at the invisible eyes even more, his vision fluctuating between human-normal and what he assumed coeurl-normal to be. It was distracting and nausea inducing and he wanted it to stop.

“And to answer your question: we came here the same way you did.”

“... You fell down?” He couldn't quite believe Ladone would just fall down the Crag.

“What... of course we didn't fall, we're not you. We warped,” grumbled Libertus, utterly exasperated.

“We touched down at some kind of lake with too many corpses, that all started to fight us and talked,” added Ladone and prevented the argument from forming in the first place.

Nyx was too distracted to really notice. Still, he blinked at that comment. Reanimated corpses were strange. Like, properly strange. On the other hand the whole feel of this cursed place was setting his teeth on edge by now, so it wasn't really surprising.

“It was creepy as fuck,” grumbled Libertus, who seemed all too happy for an opportunity to complain about the whole situation. “Those things were going on and on about how we weren't worthy and, how we should turn back and how only the strong will survive. Too bad for them, I'm an Ostium. Strength is kind of what we do.”

They made it through three more daemon infested caves before they arrived at one of the big stone arches bridging the Crag.

“Something's here,” whispered Nyx towards the other two.

Without a word they readied their weapons.

A loud screech split the air and a creature unlike anything they had ever seen landed in front of them. It looked like a mix between a wyvern and a sahagin with bird legs ans a pair of clawed wings. The ground shook when the heavy body landed, long tail whipping aggressively through the air. Nyx answered the uttered challenge with a bone rattling roar of his own. The creature reared back, pausing for but a second before it lunged straight at him.

Libertus stepped in its way, a scavenged shield brandished in front of him to brace for the impact of the attack while Nyx and Ladone leaped out of the way.

Nyx jumped onto the creatures back while it was distracted by Libertus and slammed his kukri between two plates guarding its long neck. The blade bit deep into its flesh and the smell of burnt skin crept into his nose as lightning crackled. The creature shook itself with a pained cry and threw Nyx clean off as the blade of his kukri broke. He landed on all fours, his lips pulled back into a snarl.

The thing, animal, whatever, took into the air on strong wings. Ladone hung from its side by her own blades and took to riding a daring rodeo as she swung herself onto its back. No matter how it rolled through the air, it couldn't shake the huntress off. No wonder she'd been friends with his father, Nyx couldn't help but marvel.

Nyx stretched a hand out and sent a powerful bolt of lightning into one of its wings. He had been aiming for an eye, but whatever. It tumbled towards the ground, trying to keep itself from falling with one wing. But it was no use as Ladone attacked it with a series of fire spells.

“The throat! Slit the throat!” yelled Nyx and hoped Libertus had heard him over the painfully loud screeching.

He must have. The moment the creature hit the ground Libertus was there, brandishing his heavy kukri that was more a small axe than anything else, and cut its throat as he slid along the ground and beneath thrashing limbs. A wing clipped him by the shoulder and sent him flying. It died with a last garbled screech, blood rapidly pooling around it.

“What by Pitioss was that thing?” Nyx could hear Libertus ask as he picked himself up with a groan.

The sleeve of his coat was ruined and his shoulder would bruise like nothing else, but he seemed otherwise fine.

“I have no idea,” he answered after his ears had stopped ringing and poked the carcass with a foot.

He sighed as he saw the remnants of his kukri sticking out of its neck, and wondered if he could take one of its talons in exchange. But taking a trophy was Libertus' privilege, if he so chose, since he had struck the killing blow.

His hunting-brother stepped up towards the carcass, stared at it with keen eyes and with three quick strikes cut off the talons of one leg. One for each of them. Grinning, Nyx plucked his out of the air as Libertus threw it in his direction, and rolled it between his hands. It was nearly as long as his whole hand and wickedly sharp. A fine trophy.

“Thanks, big guy,” he called.

Ladone jumped from its back down next to him and accepted her own claw with a grave nod of gratitude. “If no one is too injured we should continue post haste.”

“I'll survive,” declared Libertus after he had rotated his shoulder a few times.

“If you're sure,” she said and started to walk towards the other side of the Crag, a customary fireleaf back in her mouth.

Nyx and Libertus exchanged a meaningful glance before they followed her.

They walked through a series of empty caves that reminded him of the oldest holy sites on Galahd. Grand and with a heavy air of power and age, those places had come by through generations of continued faith and care. Whatever was the point of this place – and it was too deliberate for there not to be a point – Nyx knew they would find out very soon.

The last cave they went through had an open wall that offered a good view on a stone arch bridge that was positively covered in weapons. Swords, axes, javelins, halberds and many, many more, all in numerous sizes and forms.

“What by _ahtrii_ is this place?” whispered Libertus beside him, as all three of them stood there and stared.

“You're only asking that now? From the first moment I came here this place wanted to make me claw my own brain out,” Nyx murmured back, his eyes never leaving that bridge.

Something was there, old and powerful and lonely, full of rage and edging on corruption. It was disconcerting. He wanted to bare his teeth and hiss in warning for whatever was down there to keep away from _his_ pack.

“Whatever it is that's down there, it's in our way,” stated Ladone, chewing thoughtfully.

“It's been watching us closely for some time now,” Nyx added.

Libertus just grunted. He had most likely picked up on Nyx' behaviour and had come to a similar conclusion. Maybe he himself could feel it, too. Libertus rarely talked about anything that could cross into the territory of Clan secrets.

Ladone looked at them, her eyes hard as flintstone. “We need to get going, if we want to make it out before nightfall,” she stated brusquely. “If it comes to a fight – and I think it will – make every hit count.”

Both men nodded. It should probably be Nyx saying all this, but Ladone had seniority. Not only that, but she was also a trap specialist, and while this didn't exactly seem like a trap, it came very close to one.

“Libs, front-line attack, keep its attention on you as much as you can – whatever it is. Your shoulder up for it? You'll need to do most of the fighting,” Nyx wanted to make sure.

His hunting-brother rotated his injured shoulder again and nodded decisively. Nyx nodded back and turned his attention towards the older woman.

“Can you do the same as you did with Glauca?”

Thoughtfully, she looked back out towards the bridge. “If that's what you need of me, I'll do it, _makti-oir_.”

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but he nodded anyway.

“I'll act as backup and battle mage,” he decided.

From up here the weapons on the bridge nearly looked like shrubbery. Very deadly and sharp shrubbery, but still. The thought amused him.

Plan mostly decided, it didn't take them long to climb down the rest of the path onto the bridge. As soon as he stepped foot on it, the weight of the invisible eyes slammed into him like an actual punch in the gut and made him stumble half a step backwards. His companions tensed and Ladone seemed to fade from his senses nearly entirely. Just the faint hum of her magic tangled in his made him aware of where she was.

It was a strange feeling, that. He hadn't even known that he could do that with his magic. Libertus he could feel even stronger. Was it because he had known his hunting-brother for longer, or that he was closer to him than he was to her? As interesting as that train of thought was however, it would have to wait.

“Ye of no fayth should not be here,” echoed a deep, metallic voice through the air.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Libertus demanded as he took a step forward.

A shimmer of _angry-old-sharp-as-a-blade_ magic gleamed in the air, and then there he was. A man in ancient armour, taller than both Libertus and Nyx by at least three heads. His face was covered by a mask in the style of an Solheimr honour guard and where his eyes should be, there was a sickly, yellowish glow. His left arm was missing, having seemingly been cut off.

“So you're the one we have to beat to get out of here,” determined Libertus, trying and succeeding to hide the intimidation he must feel.

Nyx smiled and the man tilted his head as his burning gaze landed on their braids.

“Thou art not of my lyne. Ye, who cometh from the lynes of no fayth, answer. Why art ye here?”

A warning growl rumbled deep within Nyx' chest. He couldn't see Libertus' face, but he could hear the sneer in his voice.

“For a man of the Astral faith you wear those beads very proudly, _credahtri_. Tell me, what is this place? Your little hidey hole, so you won't have to face those you betrayed?”

The man reared back as if he had been slapped across the face and the double edged and heavily ornamented sword in his one hand twitched. But he did not attack. For now.

“These art the Tempering Grounds,” the man drawled. His voice had gained an edge and a weight only an _akastral_ could have. “For those who longe to be a Shielde to their King, to see their strengthe be worthy of this task. 'Tis a place to teste the fayth and strengthe of men who dare to trod this pathe. Those of no worth shalt be doomed to lyne the Pathe of the Shielde. Ye art not worthy.”

“What makes you think I need your blessing to be able to protect anyone, _credahtri_? I know who you are. I know what name you once bore, and how you abandoned it to kneel at the feet of those who nearly destroyed all of Eos in their reckless abandon.”

A furious roar made the air between them shudder as the armoured giant leapt forward and crashed with his shoulder into the banged up shield Libertus held in front of him. The sound of the impact made Nyx' teeth clatter. Libertus roared his determination, as he pushed back against the _akastral's_ power.

Nyx didn't let that deter him as he slunk soundlessly between the weapons buried in the stone, as if they were indeed nothing more than shrubbery of the Galahdian jungle, until he was nearly behind his prey. His claws may have been blunted for now, but he still had his lightning. With a near deafening _crack_ a powerful bolt connected with the man's side and threw him onto the ground.

Not wasting a single second, Libertus stood over him and swung his kukri down. The man rolled out of the way, still clearly dazed, so it only clipped the small of his back. The heavy blade shook with the tremors running through ancient fingers. The lightning had been powerful. Nyx couldn't do something like that too many more times before he started to court with a magical stasis yet again.

Armoured fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the sword before it vanished in a yellowish mist. At once it was replaced with a sleeker blade. It was long with only one cutting edge, not at all unlike General Leonis'.

The air wailed as the new blade cut through it with a speed Libertus could barely keep up with. His hunting-brother was made for strength. Speed had never been his strongest suite. He did his best as he ducked more and more behind the shield. The dented metal wouldn't last forever.

Across from Nyx a shadow moved. It wasn't a warp, there was neither the taste of Lucian magic in the air, nor the sound of breaking glass or its accompanying flash of blue light, but from one moment to the next Ladone was there and plunged her thin blade right above the calf, where a thick strand of nerves was located.

The man toppled forward with a pained cry as his knee gave out, right into the waiting blade of Libertus. He managed to hit him in the neck and cut off the long strands of pale hair held together by a heavy and old fashioned bead. If the man had been anything else but an _akastral_ , he would have bled out and died within seconds. But he was, and so he swung his own blade as he fell to his knees and cut Libertus right across his face.

Letting the shield fall, but not his kukri, Libertus stumbled back and covered the bleeding cut across his face with his now free hand. With a roar Nyx slammed into the armoured giant who was breathing heavily as he tried to stand back up again. Not that Nyx really took notice of it. He was too busy curling his fingers around the _akastral's_ throat as lightning crackled aggressively around them.

Somebody screamed. Nyx couldn't have said who it was, Libertus, himself, the man in the ancient armour. This man had dared to injure his pack-brother and no one would get away with it. Not even dead souls that hadn't found their way beyond the gate.

A ghostly, see though arm gripped him by the coat and violently tossed him away. Nyx skidded along the ground on all fours, even as the rock bit and cut through the leather of his fingerless gloves. He stayed like that, tense and growling like a coeurl ready to attack. His prey was still in range of a possible attack, but so was his pack-brother. So he held back.

Libertus himself had used the opportunity to wipe away as much of the blood as he could and pick the shield back up in anticipation of another attack.

The man had a second arm now. An arm that also held another blade. This was bad. Very, very bad. For a moment none of the fighters moved.

“Who dost thou think thou art to say thou knowest me?” the _akastral_ growled in his metallic voice full of pent up anger and pain.

“Have you truly forgotten everything of the culture you come from?” Libertus scoffed, not relaxing from his battle stance.

The tension in the air grew even heavier.

“'Tis not my culture,” he said, something like wistfulness tinting his voice.

“No,” agreed Libertus, “it isn't. Not anymore.”

Then, without warning, the man lunged towards Nyx, both blades raised to strike, fast and precise like a venomous snake. Nyx leaped backwards, seeking cover in the forest of weapon surrounding them. Libertus however, hadn't seen that. His pack-brother had his eyes firmly on his enemy and only knew that he was about to attack Nyx. So he ran straight into the line of the attack, his whole body braced behind the shield.

It didn't help much. The impact of the strike cleaved the shield clean in half and flung Libertus backwards, close to the edge of the bridge.

Nyx had no clear view of what was happening as he picked himself up, careful not to injure himself, as his hand found the metallic shaft of a javelin. He could feel Ladone's tension through their tangled magic. She was somewhere close to his right, tense and worried, but ready to strike at any moment.

She moved fast enough to practically appear out of thin air beneath the armoured right arm raised to attack, and slammed her kukri into the lesser protected armpit. Her body twisted and ducked around the man's back, pulling the blade with her as she cut the archilles tendon of his right foot with the other kukri. He fell towards the ground like an ancient tree.

Ladone backed off until she was out of reach of another potential attack, but didn't cloak her presence again. Instead she came to a stop next to Libertus who rolled onto his side with a pained groan. She helped him up with a steady arm, all the while she never took her eyes of the fallen giant who was watching them silently.

All the while Nyx had pulled the javelin from the ground and weighted it carefully in his hand. It was a simple weapon, the blade at the tip broken and bent horribly out of shape. The other end still looked sharp enough to injure, if the thrust was strong enough. It might just work.

With a cry he threw the javelin and reached for the Lucian King's magic within him. He warped in a shower of blue light and crystalline shards as he burst through the barriers of space. His hand gripped the slim shaft of the flying weapon and he twisted in mid-air until its sharp end pointed downward. Gravity did the rest. Aided by his weight the pointy end slammed down into the armoured man's shoulder and pinned him to the unforgiving stone beneath him. Nyx landed gracefully just out of arm's reach.

Then Libertus was there, resting his kukri right against the unprotected throat as the man threw his head back against the stone and gave a hoarse scream of pain. It echoed between the walls of the Crag for a long time.

It was over. The man had lost. All of them knew it, but none of them dared to relax even as the magically constructed arm vanished together with the blade it had held. The mask tilted just enough for yellow glowing eyes to wander from Nyx to Libertus and Ladone, who looked ready to plunge her kukris into the man's crotch if she needed to.

“Tell me, warrior, what be the name of the man that wouldst protect his King with such determynacyon?”

Libertus blinked. It visibly took him a few seconds until he realized that the _akastral_ had addressed him. He exchanged a glance with Nyx, who just shrugged helplessly. Between the two of them Libertus had definitely the better chance to guess what went on in the minds of people that had died a long, long time ago.

“Libertus of Clan Ostium,” he said at last.

There was another long beat of silence.

“Ostium. Oh, how ye fates turn. I wouldst have been honoured moste highly to counte thee amongst mine bloode. The name I received by those whomst took me in is Gilgamesh Amicitia.”

Libertus did not give Gilgamesh the satisfaction of an answer. He just scoffed.

Nyx felt something cold that vaguely felt like shock and surprise trickle down his spine. The Amicitias had been of their people once? Dimly he noticed that Ladone didn't seem surprised at all.

With great difficulty Gilgamesh lifted his hand off the ground and pointed it towards the far off wall. Magic shimmered in the air, heady and ancient and powerful, and a stairway appeared. It wound its way up towards the surface of Taelpar Crag.

Another twist of the hand and three weapons appeared not too far from them. All three Glaives tensed.

“During mine life I have travelled far and wide in mine desire to learne everything there was to learne of bladed weapons. Take these as sign of mine defeat moste cruel, as it ought to be done in the way of your people,” Gilgamesh spoke, not noticing or simply not caring of the reactions around him. “The way is free for you and yours, oh King. Libertus of Clan Ostium, take thine King and thine companyon and go. Ye have been founde moste worthy. And remember: A Shielde dost not move no matter the danger, no matter the adversary.”

“As if I care about being worthy,” his hunting-brother scoffed as he pulled back his blade.

The fallen man just barked an eerily metallic laugh before he went still.

The three Glaives exchanged a look across his motionless body before they started to walk away from the battleground. For a moment Nyx contemplated leaving the offered trophy behind, but he was _makti-oir_ now and that would be a slight against his traditions, his culture and his ancestors.

It was a Solheimr khopesh he found himself with. An asymmetrical one bladed sword made out of mithril. Ornate carvings and runes lined the milky metal and shimmered like bronze in the light of the sun. It was utterly beautiful and enchanting. Nyx knew for a fact that none of the known exemplars had survived as anything more than rusted remnants in museums. Safe for this one, apparently.

Libertus whistled lowly in appreciation as he hefted the heavy double bladed battle axe onto his uninjured shoulder, its design distinctively Solheimr as well. Each blade was at least as big as his head and wickedly sharp, the edges lined in a black coloured metal Nyx did not know. As a whole the weapon was as tall as his hunting-brother himself. Libertus took the bead he had cut off Gilgamesh and tied it to his new weapon with long strands of pale hair. He nodded, satisfied with his work.

“We need to hurry, if we want to make it,” said Ladone while she eyed the trident in her hands sceptically.

It was weapon just as deadly as it was beautiful, adorned with symbols of a long bygone civilization none of them recognized.

“You sure you can manage, big guy?” Nyx asked, worried.

“I feel like I've been flung around by a gekkan and a Dala got too close to my face, but I'll live.”

Luckily the cut wasn't as bad as it had seemed at first. It travelled from just above his left eyebrow, over the bridge of his nose, along the right corner of his mouth and ended at the edge of his jaw. It was shallow enough to have mostly stopped bleeding already.

“It'll scar,” Ladone stated after she had eyed the wound for a long moment. “I don't have anything left on me able to heal this.”

“Then I'll have something to impress the ladies with,” Libertus shrugged with a grin.

Nyx laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there :)
> 
> Be honest: who all could guess that Gilgamesh would be in this one? And what do you think of my backstory for him? I'm really interested to know.   
> This chapter was originally supposed to only have around 6 pages. It... went slightly out of hand^^; More to read for you guy, I guess.  
> Please note that you should definately not attempt to eat greenery, if you aren't sure of its edibility. It a Very Bad Idea. Please don't do this at home, kids. We good? Good.  
> Yes, I know my Early Modern English is bad (help would be greatly appreciated to clean it up a bit) but you cannot tell me Gilgamesh of all people would talk in perfectly understandable Modern English.  
> Anyway.  
> Big thank you for Agent_Jaselin and LighsaberWieldingDalek for their help. 
> 
> Until next chapter!


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